The Poet and the Pendulum
by Disgruntled Cola
Summary: Allison was having a bad month. When her car breaks down, her boss goes missing and she finds herself stalked by a sentient robot named Wheeljack, things take a turn for the worse. OC, harmless fluff r/r plz.
1. Prologue

**Note: I do not own Transformers in any way. They are owned by Hasbro/Takara/Tomy, whoever. The only exceptions are the OCs here. This story began as just something for fun, so it's here to be shared.  
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**02/03/2011 - **********

Looking back, I've decided to revisit this story. I was never entirely happy with a lot of aspects of it, and I finally decided to heck with it, let's make some changes. Most notably, I screwed up my OC, Allison, in a lot of spots, and I feel as though I didn't do her justice. I went over the top. It wasn't my original intention and I wanted to make it right. I strayed, and possibly even crossed into Mary-Sue territory and I wanted to fix it. Writing chapter to chapter, I didn't notice it, but reading straight through I thought "Wow, what did I do?" Maybe not all of it can be fixed, but perhaps that's a chance for the character to grow moving forward. This is my first real serious fanfic, so I need to learn from my mistakes.

After a few great critiques I decided that I'm going to start from the top and make some edits, some heavier than others. Some parts of the story might even get removed entirely if I feel they need to go. As I'm working on a continuation to this piece, and trying to learn from the silly things I did, I wanted to give this one a fresh look. If I'd written it too deeply into the story, it may be something I can't fix so it'll get left. If you've already read the story, I'm not going to be making such huge changes that it severely alters how things turn out. I'll publish notes for the edits in little tidbits at the end of each chapter that gets edited for those that are interested. Hopefully, I'll make things a little bit more bearable. I'm about 1/3 of the way through the edits so far, but I'm going to post them all in one lump for the sake of continuity. If it doesn't have a note at the end stating otherwise, it_ hasn't_ been edited.

If you're reading this for the first time, please keep in mind that some things are under construction. I know, I should have perfected it before I posted it, but here we are.

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Prologue

It was raining again. Not the aggressive type of rain. The type that happened only a few times a year, a torrential downpour of drops the size of small boulders to remind everyone that yes, the earth was still very much in charge, and that driving was merely a human preference rather than a necessity. It was the soft pattering kind of rain that misted in just at summer's end, complete with a cool breeze to match. It was rain that just barely dampened your face and frizzled your hair; the kind that made you wonder why it even bothered to rain at all.

But such was the story for the past week or so. As summer had come to a close and the regular hum-drum of city life got back into full swing, the usual cold, grimey weather came back just as casually as it had left. This was the typical year for Sealth City, and the town welcomed it back with its usual flurry of umbrellas and pea coat purchases. Those who had lived in the city all their life chose to stick it out gung-ho, barely adjusting their attire with so little as occasionally wearing a sweater with a hood. People would always complain of course, but as soon as the summer sun kicked in they'd only begin complaining about the lack of rain.

It was enough to make any disgruntled observer with half a brain wonder why people couldn't just deal with the fact that the world wasn't constant, that it was always changing, and that while something could happen to you at any given moment, such a thing was part of being human in the first place. It was called living. But then most living people alive on the planet right now don't really seem to like living very much anyway.

It was sort of a trademark of the city, the rain. Due to its coastal location the weather tended to rarely fluctuate. Rain, clouds, maybe a sun-break or two during a majority of the year. A week of straight sun and temperatures over seventy was pretty standard. Despite what a visitor would call a mostly gloomy atmosphere, with all the muted grays and warmer colors of the city proper, the city was very much teeming with activity and a thirst for human achievement.

In truth it was a city whose economy depended very heavily on an industry colored with the most advanced scientific, technological and engineering firms the world over. Major airline and Internet companies held their corporate headquarters there, as well as some of the leading manufacturers of computer hardware and software. It was a vicious industry, cut-throat and highly competitive, but it was also extremely lucrative, and so greatly desired by anyone with an interest in one of literally thousands of various careers within an immense variety of fields.

Anyone who managed to snake their way into any part of it was pretty much considered to have it made for the rest of their lives. It didn't really even matter what you did, so long as you were in the company of the best and the brightest. Even the interns and lowly assistants received on-the-job training and experience, taking home a gracious paycheck at the end of the week. The people in the industry were often considered to be in safe hands, and nothing and nobody could stop them or stand in their way. The world over craved the product they could supply, so the city had become the supermarket to the world's need of electronics and circuitry.

The reality of such a thing, however, was an ideal that was the subject of furious debate amongst both political and economical panels. Should so many vital resources be stuffed into one small space? After all, Sealth City was humble at best. Its size, while large for its region, was easily dwarfed by the glamor and hustle of cities such as New York and Los Angeles and even Detroit (which shared its own generous offerings of technological firms). Some form of attack or catastrophe that could befall the city would easily cripple a large part of the national economy, and one of the world's richest technological sources.

Yet at the same time, isolation was the principal key to its success. The city itself sat in the hub of many neighboring small towns, themselves bordered by mountains and forests. It was a natural boundary that geographically separated it from the rest of the world. New technological development demanded secrecy, and privacy was paramount. Particularly when things went wrong, as they sometimes did. Things could easily happen there and quickly be contained just as easily. This near perfect arrangement suited the purposes of every major industry leader with an eye for destiny and a little extra change in his pocket.

To say that everything that went on in the city was completely kosher, however, would be a lie. As careful as upper management was, and while there existed people, groups and even organizations designated to contain them, secrets occasionally got out. Projects that had barely begun got leaked; word spread, and a dozen rival companies immediately sought to gain the upper hand by jumping onto the back of existing research, to claim it as their own product to market. With no real laws designed to protect new technology, it was free game.

However, most of the methods and tools used to contain these secrets and inner workings were the best designed in the world, and aside from the occasional leak, the majority of projects developed by Sealth born companies survived infancy, and eventually developed into technology that would reshape the world with every iteration.

And what better place to hide information, particularly when the safety of the planet depended on it.


	2. Allison

**I do not own any of the TF characters. (c) Hasbro/Takara**

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Allison was going to be very, very late.

She was already minutes behind her very tight morning routine, and it wasn't completely her fault. The rain, for starters, was mugging up the traffic to excruciating lengths. People reacted as if they'd never seen rain before, even less how to drive in it. Yes, the beginning of the rainy season marked opening day for derby drivers and thirty car pile-ups, as people seemed to forget what they were doing and start driving as if the very touch of rain against the treads of their tires would release all hell onto the streets. Gawking drivers would sit in the middle of the highway, their fingers drumming on the steering wheel as they stared up through the windshield, as if somehow spotting a puffy white cloud amongst the gray would somehow alleviate them from their situation.

Sad and as unfortunate as that was, she was reluctant to admit that even she would have preferred to venture out in her own car, and the fact that the bus was late was causing her levels of irritation to rise astronomically. She'd already been late twice this week due to traffic conditions, and this would mark the third day in a row. Looking at her watch, she clicked her tongue in disapproval at her own stupidity for not remembering that this was the very same reason she'd been tardy before.

Of course, this would have all been avoided if her car had not decided to die on her two weeks prior. Not only that, but the mechanics were some of the most incompetent lot she'd ever come across. She'd thought all her car had needed was a new timing belt, but in the most bizarre turn of events just about everything that could have possibly gone wrong with it, did. It wasn't that Allison was too poor to keep it maintained. She was comfortable, living alone in a fairly decent studio apartment in a part of town that wasn't too bad. Yet, taking care of her car had always been low on her list of priorities. In fact she absolutely hated to drive. The highway was a hassle, she hated dealing with a commute, and parking rated among the highest of her personal most frustrating activities.

Once, she had been so impatient to park her car that she had somehow managed to reverse over the top of a manhole, despite the bright yellow warning tape around it indicating there were workmen directly below. This wouldn't have been an immediate issue if it weren't for the fact that one of the workmen had just started his lunch, and was in the process of climbing out of the manhole at the time.

After some very awkward apologies, and a check that nobody had gotten hurt, Allison had fled with the proverbial tail between her legs. The workmen had laughed it off in the end. She was a tiny thing, not frail, but certainly below the height of what would have been considered a standard of beauty. Not that Allison cared too much. Glamour was not her thing, and she'd always preferred quiet, alone-time over the raucous of noise and chaos. She usually ran out the door in the morning with very little time spent on herself in the mirror, and her appearance probably suffered just a little bit for it. There wasn't anyone in her life that she felt the need to impress anyway.

Her only saving grace in regards to driving a car was that her position guaranteed a parking spot reserved for only her at the office, not far from the entrance. It even had a little yellow sticker with her name printed on it that she took care to keep clean and intact. The bus however dropped her off down the street, and she'd have to dash down the sidewalk just to make it in the door on time.

Not that it matters, she thought dryly to herself, pushing a wet strand of dark hair out of her face. It wasn't like she had anyone in particular waiting for her. In fact, she hadn't had anyone waiting for her in almost a month. The man she worked for had mysteriously disappeared three weeks earlier, for reasons that were yet to be explained to her office. Being his personal assistant, she would have assumed she'd be the first to know if he was planning any sort of trips, but apparently that was not to be the case. One day he just didn't show up, and that had gotten the office talking. His corporate mediators were assuring everyone that he'd been needed suddenly on a conference errand, but that didn't alleviate any suspicions at all. When the director and top engineer of a computer development firm disappeared, the rumors were bound to fly.

So here she was, three weeks later with no explanation as to why she no longer had someone to answer to. It was a wonder she still had a job. She spent her time continuously organizing his files and anything else he'd left in shambles upon his departure, doing the occasional oddball errand for the other technicians in the department if they asked. She found herself constantly interrupted by fellow peers who were curious if he'd contacted her. She'd tried to remain polite at first, reminding everyone that she was just as much in the dark as they were, but for some reason they just kept coming. It was starting to test her already severely strained nerve.

Management hadn't even bothered to appoint a stand-in in the meantime. Things just carried on regardless, and she bore the brunt of the workload. Her boss may have been gone, but the research in the labs downstairs was for the most part autonomous, and was fully funded and could be independently operated for months.

So Allison continued on, waiting for someone to actually tell her if there was something more important she could turn her attention to, other than organizing computer data from day-to-day, but so far nobody had. As it was, that seemed to be her life at the moment and didn't appear as if it was about to change any time soon: twenty-three, very alone, and spending her days pushing papers whilst being surrounded by a flurry of conspiracy. Sometimes she almost wished the whole building would go down in flames.

Despite all her complaints, it put food on the table, and paid her bills, and at least she was in the zone of the most profitable line of work in the city. She didn't have the funds to move anywhere else, nor did she have the resolve to even consider it. She could always move to another company and attempt at something new, but in an industry where even getting a chance to step into the lobby is a blessing, one with very little education really doesn't have room to be picky. Allison had hoped to someday actually use that work experience and maybe advance in the company. After all, her boss had always said good things about her. But, as the weeks went by with no word from Dr. Arkeville, that particular little dream was fizzling out at a geometric rate.

Finally, the familiar 270 route bus rolling over the hill in the distance, its front-runner lights glittering merrily against the raindrops as if unaware that it had put serious strain on her day. Allison looked at her watch again in despair as she boarded the cramped, stuffy vehicle, noting that she'd at least make it and only be a few minutes late.

Although she doubted that anybody would notice.

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**02/27/2011 - Minor edits with this chapter. Nothing major.**


	3. Personal Space

**(c)Hasbro/Takara**

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Allison knew as soon as she got to her desk that today was going to be another one of those days. She was starting to think she would have been better off calling in sick and staying in bed that day, for as soon as she came in she was greeted by the same daily annoyance. She'd been assaulted with questions from the minute she'd walked in, and while she liked to think she knew a great number of people in her department, people she'd barely laid eyes on before were chatting it up as if they were greatly acquainted. Not having time for nonsense, she'd politely brushed them off with the excuse that she had a great number of deadlines to fill, even thought it was a blatant lie. Those she couldn't lie to however, were harder to throw off. One such person stood before her now.

"Did you hear from him yet?"

By the time Allison arrived at her desk she was in no mood to debate theories as to why Doctor Herbert Arkeville had gone missing. She'd been forced to sit at the front of the bus where a baby had decided it was going to spend the entire ride screaming and throwing things. She'd also nearly slipped and broken her neck on the slick pavement outside the office, and if that hadn't been enough, she's slammed right into a crowd of people going into the opposite direction. She'd missed the elevator, been forced to take ten flights of stairs, and if she hadn't already been wet enough from the rain, now she was hot and sweating. As soon as she thought she had reached the safety of her desk inside Herbert's closed off office, she was disheartened to find that the one person she couldn't hope to lie to was waiting for her. Why? she thought to herself in resignation. Why am I being punished?

"No Danny, I didn't," Allison said half-heartily, peeling off her wet jacket and throwing it over the back of her chair. "Trust me, you'll be the first person I tell…" She sat down heavily and attempted to look busy organizing her desk. It did nothing to persuade the man before her to leave.

Danielle West was someone Allison had known from high school, which admittedly wasn't that many years ago. He was a year her senior, and had been the type of student that one would have always found in the computer room during lunch, tapping away at a keyboard and scouring the Internet for conspiracy and sensationalism. He had belonged to a different circle of friends, than Allison had, none of them "popular," but somehow they had created a mutual friendship during their school years that had never gone away. He'd moved on to college, while she'd taken off-jobs here and there just for the sake of feeling independent and free from the shackles of schoolwork. They'd kept in touch, and by some remarkable stroke of fate had ended up working in the same company. Having always been good with computers (tutoring her in calculus a few semesters the one time Allison was in danger of a grade below a B) he'd ended up working as a programmer deep within the bowels of the building.

He also had feelings for her. He'd never admit it, but she knew it was there. It wasn't that Allison didn't like him. He got on her nerves on occasion, but inevitably someone always got on Allison's nerves at some point, so that was nothing unusual. That was quite possibly the glue that held them together, having a mutual knowledge of how far to test one another's nerve. Allison wasn't entirely sure why she hadn't pursued anything more serious. It wasn't like she had suitors banging her door down, and the desire was certainly there. Perhaps she was just gutless, as was he. There had been no propositions from him, but part of her thought to herself that she was just waiting for him to make the first move, and another part of her was afraid that she was going to be waiting for an eternity.

The tussled, brown-haired young man looked at her with narrowed eyes through a pair of thin wiry glasses, with a hint of suggestion that she must surely be crazy. He folded his arms across his chest and glanced around the rectangular office with its multitude of boxed desks and buzzing activity. He leaned his thin, lanky body over her desk..

"Someone said Aliens took him. Made him crazy," he whispered with a half-smile to suggest that even he, a man who thrived on crack-pot theories, didn't quite believe that one. Catching sight of his expression, Allison nearly sprayed the coffee she'd just sipped all over the papers on her desk.

"Okay, and who came up with that one?" she asked with a startled laugh, shuffling the various sheets of paper around to open up a spot to safely put the coffee mug down. She turned to him and he looked like a curious mix of amused and slightly insulted at her reaction. "You do realize that's absurd, don't you?"

Danny, lacked a certain amount of tactful grace that was demonstrated by the very close proximity in which he leaned over her desk. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a forefinger and shook his head, his messy hair seeming to take on a life of its own.

"No, this one is different. This one came from the high-ups... you know, the ones we don't talk about…"

"Right… aliens. Got it. And who exactly from you-know-where told you this?" She questioned, turning on him with a smirk that suggested she wasn't taking him seriously. He shook his head, as if he'd lost the will to speak of it any further and wished to simply dismiss the whole idea. She sighed, completely exasperated at this point and thinking longingly of her bed at home. This was the way every morning started ever since Arkeville had disappeared. Come in. Sit down. Get pummelled with wild ideas that sat with you for the rest of the day and refused to move no matter how outrageous. Allison looked down at her desk as Danny stood up and took a step back. They were both silent for a moment, and Allison took that opportunity to try and rectify the situation.

"You know there's probably a rational explanation for why Doctor Arkeville is gone, and I say this to you everyday," she said quietly, kicking her over-sized purse underneath her desk. She rubbed her shoulders absently and waited for a response from Danny, but none was forthcoming. "He's an important man, he doesn't have to tell me everything-"

"But he does tell you almost everything. You know more than a lot of his bosses even know."

She was silent for a moment, thinking that truth over.

"I'm sure he doesn't tell me everything," She turned her eyes on him and he was shaking his head, expression quite unreadable. "I don't even understand why this is such a big deal anyway. They say he's at a conference, so that's it. Maybe it's just none of our business. We do have a lot of government contracts, but who knows? Maybe it was a family emergency."

"You really believe that? It's too convenient. Why have none of the other uppers come to take his place and run things?" Danny stopped and stepped forward as if to ensure that there wasn't even the slightest chance someone would hear his next words. "Truth is, word has been going around that he's been working on something in the dark, something nobody is supposed to know about…"

"Oh please, and did you get that from the same source that told you he was kidnapped by the mob last week?" she sighed.

"I'm serious Al." His expression evened out to something more calm. She blinked at him, not entirely certain what he expected her to say. "When powerful men disappear, that usually means bad things will follow."

"You worry too much."

He turned, as if he was about to walk away which brought a flood of relief from within her that surged outwards in the form of a very content sigh. She liked the guy, but she simply didn't want to talk in circles anymore. Her relief was quickly evaporated as he stopped suddenly and turned. He looked at her carefully, his blue eyes unreadable.

"And you know what else, Allison?" He said, more in the tone of a statement than a question.

"What Danny?" She said into the desk, not even bothering to look up at him as she began scribbling mindless notes on a scrap of paper. Her patience was fast wearing thin.

"You remember that car you had me ask about?"

She looked up, suddenly interested in the conversation again. "Well? Is it one of your guys?"

"No. It's none of theirs." He stopped and made a motion as if he was about to leave, but he gestured to the window. "But it is back."

"What?" She felt her pulse start to race.

Danny pointed at the window to her left and exhaled roughly. He frowned at her, a gesture of sympathy that she wasn't sure she welcomed at the moment. His eyes followed her as she nearly lept to the window, pressing her face against the glass to look down.

She scanned the lot below her; the top of the parking garage was never full of cars, so it was easy to spot the familiar white vehicle that sat eerily lifeless, alone in a parking stall that just happened to be the one with her name on it. It had started showing up, every day like clockwork, beginning with the day her own car had gone into the mechanic. It had become something of a tradition to see the familiar car every day since then. Almost too familiar.

The roof was conveniently open with a good view of the building: of her office window. Normally, she would have never noticed the vehicle, despite it being extravagant and flashy, obviously a very expensive car and not one that seemed to be common on the streets. For a while she'd thought that perhaps it had belonged to one of the arrogant analysts, perhaps a new guy, maybe a puffed out kid who felt he needed to compensate for something and prove his worth to the company by driving a "custom" car. However that theory had fizzled out as soon as she'd asked Danny to do a little digging in his circles, and nobody seemed to know who owned the car. She tried reporting the vehicle to security, but they didn't seem to be of any use either. When she would inquire as to the result of them actually attempting to do their jobs, she was disheartened to hear that there was nothing they could do, as there never seemed to be a driver around to confront. Towing had been useless, because the car had just been back the next day. She couldn't make out any details of the car's interior, as the windows were so tinted that they were nearly black.

"When did it get here?" She asked quickly, feeling just a bit more reluctant to leave the relative safety of the building than she had been a few minutes prior. Danny made a clicking sound with his tongue, like he was thinking.

"I think it was there before anyone got here…" he said slowly. "But, it definitely wasn't here when I left late last night."

Allison didn't respond to him, and continued to look down at the unrecognizable car that had a mysterious knack for showing up wherever she seemed to be. It hadn't gone so far as to appear outside her apartment, yet, but she was to the point where she didn't want it to get that far before finally stepping up and taking action. As it stood, she'd never once seen a driver get in or out of the vehicle, but that certainly didn't stop the vehicle from moving, as it seemed to always be outside while she was at work, as well as anywhere else she happened to go. The market, drugstore, it didn't really matter, but the car was always there, and it was starting to get more bold.

The only time she'd witnessed the car move was while walking to the bus stop one evening. It had driven right past her, slow enough that she get a real good look at whoever had been driving it. She could have of course, if the exceptionally wide front window of the car didn't have the same opacity as a pit of tar. It had been disconcerting to say the least watching it slide past, and while she couldn't actually see the person controlling the car, she'd felt eyes on her. If she had been crazy enough, she would have said that the very car itself had been sizing her up. Then out of nowhere it had driven off, engine roaring as it shot down the street and around a corner, never to be seen again that day. Allison hadn't slept much that night.

Since then, she hadn't seen the car actually move, but it continued to pop up wherever she seemed to go. As time passed, the car began to park itself closer and closer to the main entrance of whatever building she happened to occupy. Allison never went anywhere after dark anymore, but darting in and out for errands on her breaks and lunch hour was starting to get tiresome. It was also making her nervous. She was starting to eye everyone in the stores in a way that must have made her seem like a paranoid schizophrenic, when really she was attempting to deduce who might be the owner of that car. So far the trail was cold.

"I think you should call the police Allison," Danny finally said after a few minutes of silence. She thought maybe he'd left while she'd been awash in her brooding, but he hadn't. She really didn't want him here to witness her chewing her nails in frustration.

"Um… no," she shook her head and turned to him briefly, before looking back out at the car. It was a startling contrast against the other cars in the lot: almost all white with black rims around the wheels and windows. It sported what looked like a custom paint job of red and green stripes that jutted up from the front end of the hood to the window like a pair of daggers. The dark grey spoiler of the car was tall and wide, fanning out like a wing on a drag car. It was boxy, but gracefully curved with a modern edge on a retro inspiration. It looked so custom in fact, the body type was one she'd ever seen on the road before. It was possibly an import, or something so expensive that two people in the world had it, which made it all the more conspicuous. The appearance alone would have certainly turned her head for a few moments. She would have paid no further attention to it had it not been making itself obvious by parking in her own personal spot every day.

"I'm going to go sit by the car after work today," she said boldly, and Danny scoffed behind her. She tensed at this, a rush of annoyance at his obvious distaste.

"What for?" he asked incredulously, not really expecting that kind of answer out of someone who preferred to lay low and remain unnoticed. There was no denying this was typically true of Allison's character, to always avoid confrontations at all costs, so even she was surprised that she was opting to take care of it alone. Even though this person was a creep, somehow, she wasn't as afraid as she knew she should be.

"I don't want to get the police involved... Maybe I can deal with it before it comes to that… confront this person. Maybe it's just a coincidence."

"A coincidence that it started to show up after Arkeville disappeared?"

Allison shrugged, and moved back to her desk, her steps strangely audible above the noise of the office and the silence between them. It was an awkward few moments after that where Danny watched her carefully, perhaps waiting for her to change her mind or beg for his help.

"Look, if I need you, you can save me, alright?" she finally said, attempting a rather un-enthused smile for his benefit. He shook his head and looked at her with worry in his eyes, grinding his jaw in frustration.

"I can go with you if you want-"

"No." It probably came out more forceful than it should have, as an expression of subtle hurt passed over his face. "I mean, I'd just rather deal with it on my own, okay?" She didn't like depending on people, when so far she felt as if she'd done a pretty good job without resorting to that.

"Call me the minute you get to the car."

"I'll be fine Danny," she warned, not wanting his anxiety to rub off on her already wavering self-control. This was just one more thing she had to worry about, and she wanted it out of her hair, whatever it took. She could do this... couldn't she?

"Just be careful," he said quietly, before turning to leave the office, and Allison in the blessed privacy she had been craving all morning.

Somehow though, she couldn't enjoy it. The air was heavy, and the lingering realization about what she might be getting herself into hung over her like a bomb ready to blow.

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**02/27/2011 - More minor edits. Added some sentences, cleaned some things up and included more dialogue.**

**I also changed the name of Allison's boss to Arkeville. Originally it had been a character I had made up. Yes, that in of itself can be construed as being "Mary-Su" like or what-have-you, but in the end I felt like I'd created a character that ended up filling that kind of role, and would suit that purpose should I ever decide to revisit that story point in the future. As such, it seemed natural to name him that. I also completely made up his first name. Not sure if he had one in the G1 cartoon, but I found no record of one.  
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	4. Inferno

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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Allison's entire day had been ruined after Danny had left the room, and she'd barely even gotten a fraction of her work accomplished as a good portion of her day had been spent staring at a blank computer screen. When she hadn't been drooling mentally, she fidgeted in her chair and anxiously walked the length of room finding it difficult to sit still. Organizing papers had given her some self-control, until she'd realized that she'd been organizing the same papers twenty times over. She was dreading the end of the day when she knew she'd have to face a potential stalker..

And kidnap...maybe worse…Her thoughts were less than optimistic as she walked out across the parking lot, pulling her coat around her tighter as she thought about everything Danny had said to her that morning. He'd dodged her the rest of the day, not really coming into direct contact with her, but still managing to keep an annoyingly close eye pointed in her direction. She wondered if he was around at that very moment, waiting to charge out of the shadows should something go wrong. Allison allowed herself a soft nervous laugh at that notion, looking around the empty lot as she continued towards her intended target.

The lot itself was nearly deserted, and it was late. The car park's street lamps added an orange haze to the atmosphere, but did relatively little to brighten the environment. She was on the top level which opened out to the sky, and led down via a series of ramps to the three other levels on the ground. The interior sections were much brighter by far, as most of the outside lamplight escaped into the darkness of the night. Even the car itself had a strange glow cast upon it which created patterned illusions across it's glossy white surface, making parts of the car appear almost yellow.

She frowned, finally arriving at the front end of the car, which as expected, was driver-less. It was only 6:30 and still early, so she decided she would just wait, and took the time to really examine the car. She circled it a few times, noticing nothing new about it that she hadn't already seen in her half-assed attempts to out-smart whoever seemed to own it. It wasn't until her third time around when she noticed something that made her stop.

Leaning forward, she focused her attention on the hood of the car just between the jagged patches of color At first, she wasn't quite sure what she was looking at, until matrixing kicked in and she began to interpret what appeared to be a shiny metal face. Having some courage, she slowly brought a finger forward and touched it experimentally. She scratched at it lightly with her nails around the rims, curious as to how it had been stuck on there because it appeared to be a solid extension of the hood itself. It made a pleasant little ping when she flicked it with thumb and forefinger.

What was most odd about it was the very inhuman nature of the design, yet it retained all the basic components of what a human face should look like: elongated eyes, a thin angular mouth, and a nose. In fact the entire design was angular, almost android like. A thin line dropped from each eye, almost like it was crying. From each corner of the mouth was a similar line. And yet it didn't convey anything sinister. Rather, it was almost friendly. Clearly it had been rendered to resemble the basic nature of the human face. She stared at it for a while, before the irrational notion set it in that it was looking back. Turning away from it with a questioning shrug, she wondered what would posses someone to put that there in such a random spot. It definitely wasn't something she recognized.

Allison looked out at the parking lot again, the strange face forgotten, and as far as she could tell, she was still the only person there. She leaned against the hood of the car and tried again to tighten her coat around herself to ward off the chill. The air was quiet and for once the clouds had dispersed and she had a nice view of the stars against the Sealth City skyline. She enjoyed the view for a good while, her breath a thin whisper of mist as she exhaled into the night air. It was getting colder, fall was approaching, and whether or not her shivering was from anxiety or the growing cold she couldn't tell. But for now, she remained alone. It was just her and the car.

It stayed that way for nearly three hours before Allison started to get very impatient and uncomfortable with her nose going numb. She wriggled against the hood to get some feeling back into her cold, aching body and looked for the umpteenth time at her watch and realized that the last bus was going to be by in twenty minutes. It was definitely time to go.

"Crap…" Allison muttered to herself, feeling slightly defeated, and aggravated that she'd wasted hours of time she could have put to better use. She jumped up from the hood of the car where she'd been resting, as the quiet air was interrupted by a very audible rattle from behind her. Startled, and heart jumping to a mile a minute, she turned quickly only to find that there wasn't anybody there, and no definite source of the noise. She turned back to the city skyline with a sigh, telling herself she had to be tired. She was definitely still alone, but standing near the car was starting to give her chills. She told herself it had to be the cold, but she swore she could feel an energy radiating from the car like it was running, but it was still and lifeless as ever.

"Well... it's been fun," she directed to the car with a groan, shaking such a stupid notion out of her head. It was late, dark and cold, and Danny's theories were starting to get to her. Allison grabbed her bag off the ground and absently patted the hood of the car in mock comradeship before departing.

She stopped in mid-stride, starting to mildly panic. Patting down her jacket pockets first, she thrust her hands in, feeling around for the little plastic card that was her temporary buss pass, and her heart sank as she felt nothing but one empty gum wrapper. Allison swore under her breath, and began to hurriedly jog back to the main door into the office. Likely, she'd left it on her desk where she'd put it after the entire contents of her bag had spilled onto the floor. She'd been in such a hurry to put it all away she'd put some of it on her desktop, and had clearly forgotten about it.

Once she got to the door, there was an odd, heavy clip-clip, of what sounded like the high-pitched clicking of bird feet from the roof ledge above her, sounding misplaced in the silence. Thinking it odd that a bird would be around at this late hour, Allison glanced up, pulling the heavy door back open, but saw nothing but a vanishing shadow that seemed to huddle back from the roof's edge. Likely a crow, or a gull, so she shrugged it off as she went back inside, careful to shut the door all the way behind her. It took her a few moments to maneuver around all the desks, but she knew the room well enough to be able to navigate through the faint outlines, using only the dim lights the parking lot and city provided as they spilled into the room. She managed to paw her way into the main office, her office, which was a little bit brighter and immediately saw the little white card sitting atop a chaotic stack of papers and crumpled napkins. Allison scooped it up triumphantly, slipping it into her jacket pocket as she turned to leave. Her trip back out was considerably faster, as she was walking towards the light spilling from the open windows, so it was easier to see where she was going. She was in the midst of congratulating herself that she still had time to get to the bus station, then froze as soon as she stepped outside.

The car was gone. Mere minutes before it had been there, empty, silent, but now the same spot it had been sitting in for days on end was completely barren. Looking around wildly, she saw nothing, heard nothing, and felt it odd that she'd never heard the sound of an engine roaring to life as she'd darted back inside. Had she not been paying attention? The car was just flat-out gone with no indication that anybody had even gotten into it in the first place. At the very least, she'd thought she'd be able to hear the sounds of an engine retreating.

Allison looked around again slowly, partly perplexed and partly horrified. Now suddenly overwhelmed with the sense of urgency she walked out towards the ramp that would lead her to the floor below, the first level that actually had a stairwell she could duck into. At least if they were in a car, they couldn't drive down a stairwell after her. She jerked instinctively as a far-off, mournful cry of something that sounded like an oddly vocalized bird split the chilled air. Even though she knew a late bird posed no threat to her, it prompted her to fumble inside her purse for the tiny canister of pepper spray she kept in one of the side pockets. Her hands around the cool metal of the container offered very little comfort however, and her footsteps now seemed very loud. She kept her ears open for any sounds of an oncoming engine, but knowing there was no way the car could double around her from above she kept her eyes forward.

Finally making it down to the second level, a covered portion that sported a series of porticos which opened out into the city, she saw the stairwell directly to her left on the other end. She turned, walking out into the open, and something in the corner of her vision to her left made her stop dead.

It was the car, the white, disgustingly cheerful car sitting motionless at the bottom of the adjacent ramp in the middle of the road, facing her. The widely arced windows were shadowed by the unnatural lighting of the concrete structure, and she could barely hear the soft puttering of an idling engine that sounded far too underwhelming for the circumstances. Allison stood in the middle of the road, feeling suddenly very small as the car stared her down. There was an odd sense of purpose behind it, and she jumped as the engine revved once. She took a step back, unable to believe her rotten luck as she risked a glance to the stairwell. She could make it. It wasn't far. She was sure she could sprint the distance before the car could get to her, but her panicked terror kept her from moving. Allison felt as if any sudden movement would antagonize it, as if applying silly predatory instincts to a machine wasn't inappropriate enough-

-A sudden squeal of tires disturbed the tentative silence as the car literally lunged forward, accelerating at a blinding rate up the ramp towards her. Allison reacted less than a second later, kicking off the ground towards the stairwell across the lot. Something very large invaded the space near her head and swept up her hair, and Allison ducked mid-sprint, throwing up her hands to cover her head in response to some unknown assailant. She screamed, her voice awfully shrill in the pervading ambiance characterized by the thunderous roar of a powerful engine that was closing in fast. Her bag slammed against her thigh, hard, and she stumbled the last few steps to the railing of the stairwell, using her inertia to swing her body around and throw herself down into relative safety. She stumbled, but otherwise made it, blood pumping in her ears nearly drowning out the assailing sounds of an engine, the high pitched shriek of friction between rubber and cement, all coming from above.

Allison stopped herself at the landing and tried to push off the rail to turn herself back around and nearly took all of the next steps in one leap. There was an oddly placed howl from somewhere above her; It sounded grating, shrieking, the endless maze of concrete likely distorting the sounds around her. She didn't stop to listen any further, and kept running even as her legs nearly buckled from her lack of awareness of her body.

The ground levels were empty, and she tore out across the street and ducked into an alleyway, wanting to put as much confusion between herself and whoever was controlling that car. Her thoughts were to hopefully lose it, and she resolved to hunt down a bus stop that was different from her norm to break any sort of pattern her attacker might have noted. She vaguely thought about calling the police, and she slowed just enough to dig her cell phone out of her bag, cursing very audibly at herself as she realized it was dead. There was no one around, and all the shops were closed, so her best course of action she thought was to find someone, anyone with a cell phone so she could call the police.

The problem with this particular part of the district was that most of the buildings were large, and spaced close together. Most of the small alley ways between buildings were blocked by chain linked fences and padlocked, and there were even some hedges bordering the thin stretches of grass running along the edges of walls. This made running along them slightly distressing as it took a while to pass one building, only to find another mindlessly dull office building similar to the first. She travelled through some of this area by bus every day, but she had never really ventured out on foot around here, and it was unnerving. This was pretty far from the nearest cafe district, so there were no people hanging around the streets after work. At one point she thought she heard a police siren, but it was far off in the distance. Every now and then the squeal of a tire or engine roar could be heard. Pedestrian lights were red, but in this abandoned area she was free to hurry across regardless.

Finally Allison had to stop, for her lungs would no longer allow her to run any longer. She wasn't entirely sure how far she'd gotten from her previous calamity, but as long as it was currently quiet it was far enough for the time being. She nearly slid to a stop against a light pole, and grabbed it to stop herself. Leaning against it, half hugging it with her arms wrapped around it, she let the coolness of the metal soothe her flushed face. Allison allowed herself a few moments to let the rushing of blood, and pounding of her heart subside before letting any rational thought re-enter her brain.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to weigh her options, re-think everything over, tensing as a commuter train rumbled overhead on its raised tracks. The street itself was empty. The solid dark of night, veiled in heavy mist, was broken for a brief moment as a traffic light shifted its color; The ambient color reflecting beautifully over the glistening concrete below.

Something wasn't quite right. Correction; a lot of things weren't quite right, but over the last few hours something distinctly unusual had presented itself, throwing any logical ideas she might have had over the mystery of the last few weeks into further disarray. And this something had four wheels.

But no driver, she thought. No, that wasn't true. This car obviously had a driver, somewhere. But, if it really was her he was interested in, why hadn't he shown his face when she practically handed herself over? Had the driver been around, watching her from a distance? That seemed unlikely. The lot had been empty, and there really wouldn't have been any place to hide unless this person had decided to shack up in a building for three hours just to watch her sit around.

And then there was the car itself; an enigma that seemed so mundane, but just enough of a presence in itself to suggest that something wasn't completely right. There was more to that car than met the eye, and she hazarded a guess that maybe it was in her best interest not to know.

It was at that point that she was toying with the idea of moving out of the country just to get away from the mystery vehicle, when the far off glimmer of headlights hit her peripheral vision. She turned to look, tensing just slightly as if expecting to see the very object of her musings, but forgot about it entirely once she realized it was a pick-up truck. She had no idea who was driving it, and she didn't care. Regardless of whether the car was dangerous or not, one demonic car was enough, so she hurried back a few steps and hid behind one of the bushes that lined a wall.

It was then she noticed a couple of two unsteady looking youths walking on the opposite side of the street. The nearest bar was up near the cafe strips, about 40 minutes away on foot, so where they'd come from was a mystery. But they were definitely drunk, their slurred speech, crass dialog and wavering footsteps more than enough to reveal their condition.

Allison remained behind her bush, her eyes darting back and forth between her and the oncoming truck. As it passed, it's headlights shone over her impromptu hiding spot, and she turned away to avoid the bright glare. Almost immediately, she heard one of the intoxicated pedestrians call out,

"'Eeyyy!" Mumbling something towards his companion, the two of them turned and started walking across the street in her direction. Crap, she thought. Have they seen me? She was one lone female on a deserted street, and they were about half way across the road. Allison was tensed to run again, when another set of headlights shone over the road. It was a station wagon, and it didn't seem to notice the two drunks. They, in turn, didn't seem to notice the station wagon driving toward them. Allison shot a panicked look back at that same car. It was currently cruising towards them, fast, and from what she could tell the single male driver didn't appear to find the road any more interesting than what he apparently was so focused on in his glove compartment.

There was a split second of intensity as Allison froze, watching the two inebriated pedestrians as one of them stumbled, then fell. The other stopped and laughed, both of them still not noticing the car that was intent on plowing into them. That's when Allison finally managed to pull herself out of her stupor, and before she realized it she was jumping out from behind her bush and running out onto the street.

"HEY! WATCH IT!" She was waving her arms, screaming. The two men looked up and blinked stupidly at her, stumbling back just a few steps, grinning like the jackasses they were. Then there was the blare of a horn that shattered the night. Allison had only gotten a few steps out into the road, but it was enough to feel the heat of the growing glare of headlights that most certainly meant death for anyone in its path. There was the squeal of tires, as the car veered sharply to the right towards her, obviously not having seen her come out onto the road. She lunged to her left, hitting the concrete with a wet slap that sent a sharp crack of pain through her wrists and up her arms.

She cringed, closing her eyes, but the crunch of wheels never hit her. Instead, she heard as much as felt the car skidding on the asphalt, wheels barely clinging to the road as they kicked up a spray of grit and stagnant rain water. It bit the curve, lunging up onto the sidewalk like a hulking beast, roaring with an explosion of rendering metal and shattered glass as the car plunged into a building across the road.

Then everything was still, quiet, peppered with the chiming of glass shards as they fell to the street. Someone near her chuckled, but at that point Allison didn't care, didn't even really notice as the two men laughed and in a sudden feat of focused athleticism took off down the street. Allison didn't even have time to feel disgusted. She was too focused on the driver of the car and making sure whoever it was, was okay.

Allison tried to stand, and bit her lip as the pain in her hip where she'd hit the ground made its presence known. Stumbling forward, she called out hesitantly into the wreckage, and then waited a beat for a response. There was nothing; Only the burst of something sparking from somewhere within the mess. She could smell burning oil, smoke, and then literally saw the flash as a burst of electricity bounced across the debris and ignited something from inside. There was only seconds to react as the resulting explosion blossomed into an inferno, searing her skin with angry heat. She fell back, choking, hitting the ground as airborne concrete and glass pelted the ground around her body. Her head connected with the ground hard enough to bring stars against her vision, but at that point she was still lucid enough to see the new set of headlights tear around the corner, fast and angry.

No…

She managed to put the thought together even as this new car was barreling towards her, fast. The white glossy frame, the obscenely colorful hood; her stalker. Her demon car and faceless driver. It glimmered maliciously in the simmering glow of the flames, tearing against the road like a hellish demon, its path unfaltering and straight like an arrow. It was headed straight for her.  
There was a second explosion as something else ignited from within the heated wreckage. The building blew outward, and time slowed as Allison watched the car come towards her, closing in, not focused on the carnage around her and the imminent danger it presented.

Allison couldn't, for whatever reason, break her quickly blurring gaze from the vehicle that now seemed to be shifting, breaking apart, growing larger in bulk as well as perception. She didn't even notice one particularly large chunk of brick and mortar that nearly killed her, only to shatter at the hand of some impossible force, its path broken violently away from her by the growing mass the car had seemed to explode into. It may have been the numb disbelief that carried her down, or the pain in her head that had slowly gone numb and cold as she slid into inky black. But just before she went under she thought she saw the unearthly glow of eyes.

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**02/27/2011 - Again, minor edits.**


	5. Observer's Silence

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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Allison was currently looking fretful, pacing lightly in a proximity that was uncomfortably close to him at that moment. Of course he knew her name. After all, he had been watching her for weeks, gleaning bits and pieces of information about her and the people she associated with through his undetectable eavesdropping. Yet he'd known it long before that, since he'd been given the order to make the long journey to where she was, just in case she, or any one else involved needed special intervention. After all, it was no mere coincidence, that a certain man had disappeared without a word as to why. When one knew what he knew, and when one saw what he saw, things had the potential to get strange very fast. Inevitably, when _they_ were involved things always took a turn for the worse.

Yet Arkeville's departure did not put to rest any possibility of further danger, and so it was his part to ensure that there was no chance, nor need to escalate the situation. After all, the doctor had people that had held his confidence, and should any information have made it to them one would need to be ready to take action should the wrong hands decide to get dirty.

Neither the watcher, nor his superior yet knew why exactly Doctor Arkeville had disappeared, but his leader was the type to be prepared. So, erring on the side of caution, he remained, watching the one that had been his most trusted for any hint of the doctor's chosen course of action. It was one occasion that he fully agreed with the one in command, which was not always the case. It was unfortunate that in the great battle that had marked his arrival, many of his long-range systems had been damaged, because he would have gotten right back on that channel and told his leader so.

The femme was standing near him, very close, almost too close in fact, and it was starting to make the watcher feel ill at ease. It wasn't that he did not trust her, quite the opposite in fact, as it was cautionary at best. He merely did not want to alarm her any more than her much smaller human mind would allow. He was afraid that if she ventured too close to his alternate form, there wouldn't be any way around a potentially uncomfortable situation. He was not completely used to human presence, and such an intimate one was difficult, even for him.

So he waited patiently, trying to decipher what she would do. She and her kind were most curious and unpredictable; given to letting their actions be governed by flippant emotions rather than good sense and logic. But, for honesty's sake, the watcher himself wasn't really one to point fingers, and he found their demeanor altogether fascinating. He too did not always take the most logical path, in favor of one that was more unpredictable. The challenge of the unknown kept things in a constant state of excitement. While intelligence was key to his being and purpose, it was his flair for creative means of actually utilizing that intelligence to a variety of ends (albeit not always successful) that really made him feel alive. It also landed him a reputation among comrades, much to his chagrin, as it was often beset with playful jest at his expense. She however, seemed to employee and outward mask of rigid organization to compensate for something more chaotic.

This femme was clearly level-headed enough, but young, emotional, and full of the feminine chaos that he found fascinating among the few humans he'd had a chance to really observe (whether they knew it or not). He'd seen it enough, albeit in a much younger fashion back home, but here in a completely different element it was a refreshing chance to experience something on a more personal level.

The silent observer was thoroughly startled out of his internal reverie when Allison walked a wide arc around him and leaned against his frame. He hadn't expected it, so the sudden, but slight, weight against him when he'd been so perfectly distracted was a new source of interest. There had never been much occasion to make physical contact with the organics who populated this planet, save for a few who knew intimately well of him and his brothers, but even they tended to shy away from the observer in particular. Whether they just purely found him boring, or even mildly intimidating, he'd never paid much attention to it and had allowed his processors to dedicate themselves to more pressing concerns at the time. He felt like even so, he knew enough to be courteous, but he had to wonder if sending him on this errand was just some giant scheme in order to teach him proper social skills with the local residents. It wouldn't be the first time his leader sent one on some frivolous task, seeming to be important at the time, but really masking some monumental journey to self-discovery.

Her touch could certainly not be ignored. Aside from the barest readings of her overall body temperature and slightly elevated heart rate, to him he did not sense anything amiss. While he couldn't read as much as some, if she actually knew she would likely find it intrusive, so he made an effort to block out those immediate physical responses. Humans were much more fragile both in their mental and physical aspects, but he knew enough about her state of mind by listening to her interact with people. She attempted to behave normally, but even if he wasn't an expert in human emotions, he knew enough to be able to tell that she was bothered. It was hard to tell as to what exactly the source of that distress was, and if it was him that was the cause or something else entirely. She seemed to mourn the absence of her own superior, and from his initial impressions, and what he'd been briefed on, they seemed to have had a history that stretched far beyond formal business communication. Her worry was just as upsetting to him as the unknown. His time in her company, while being from a safe distance and in the shadows so-to-speak, had started to nurture a fierce protectiveness that made him itch.

In truth patience was not his strongest virtue, and it was starting to wear thin, more out of anxious worry than aggression. He was more worried for her sake than his own, that something would go wrong and he would inadvertently shatter her realityl. It was time for her to depart, and it was with relief that she finally realized the same thing for herself. Allison actually opened her mouth to speak, and he waited with bated intakes to see what she would say. He thought for a brief instance that she had spoken directly to him, and forgetting completely that she had no idea who or what he actually was, it took a few more nanoseconds than necessary to force himself back to reality.

Yet it wasn't quick enough to keep him from being startled, and a tremor passed through his body. She turned and looked around as he froze again, feeling quite cramped and just finally noticing the cold ache in his joints. He longed to go out and move, to stretch and unfold, for it was becoming harder to remain stationary and in disguise as the cold of the earth's evening settled in. Normally he liked sitting in this form, with nothing to occupy him but all the fascinating distractions of this world, but he would have preferred it be in a setting that wasn't quite as damp. But that was impossible with present company. She was still looking around, searching for the source of the noise, and her eyes finally rested on him questioningly, before forgetting it entirely. She was departing; He relaxed, and was surprised to hear the next words from her mouth actually directed at him. While not entirely serious, the gesture was still unforgettable.

"Well… it's been fun." And then she ever so gently patted his frame. While in her ignorance it was her attempt at a personal joke, he was unable to deny himself the luxury of pretending she knew the truth. That thought made him happy, and the obliviousness helped him fell that much more at ease and less alone. A constant struggle to remain unnoticed and incognito quickly lost its novelty and excitement, and quite frankly became boring. He was bored, he finally craved social contact with her, but that was something his superior had forbidden unless circumstances made it inescapable. But still, her words moved him, and just slightly edged away the aching cold. For this, he was grateful.

He watched Allison walk a few steps away before stopping, shoving her hands in her pockets appearing to search for something. She looked mildly annoyed, and a moment later began walking back towards the building she'd come from. She disappeared back inside, and a couple of nanoseconds passed, before he wondered whether he could afford to sneak off for a moment or two.

A strange, nagging sensation hit him, slicing through his distractions in the form of something he couldn't quite place. A fraction of a second later, a sensor inside him went off. There was no audible or tactile quality to it, it was more like a tremor in his awareness that was familiar, but not inviting. He growled, a soft revving of his internal systems as the source of the intruding beacon was finally recognized. Not on his watch.

For the briefest of moments he was actually stunned, not having expected it to occur here, and least of all not so soon. But he was fast to respond, moving without hesitation out of the space he occupied and ducked down into the levels below. This was where the signal had originated from. It was small, very small. That gave him an indication of what the signal was coming from. But it was also very strong. He had to be extremely careful not to give away his presence.

Working his way down the ramp, he turned a corner and found a vantage point which gave him view to the entire level at the very bottom. It was there that he spotted his target.  
It was a small, black and silver creature, shaped like a bird. Just as he had expected. It was up in the corner of the roof, nestled behind a chunk of concrete near what appeared to be a stairwell. There were thick bundles of cables running out from a deep metal box up there, obscuring the bird from below. Of course, it had not noticed him, knowing from experience that these particular types were one-track minded, and tended to shut out anything contrary to their orders. This was their ultimate design flaw, and he had the tools to take advantage of that.

Allison came into view just around the corner a few moments after he'd settled into place. He stilled, letting his engine lower to a dull puttering as she walked on, not seeming to notice him, or the elusive eavesdropper in the corner. Once she'd reached the wide opening just at the mouth of the ramp, she stopped, turning in his direction with an unfortunate expression of horrified realization. He was caught, but that didn't matter, because the vicious bird had snagged him in its sights as it turned to watch Allison with keen interest.

Originally it would not have noticed him, but as its head had followed Allison's movements, remarkably it had caught sight of the lone white car, recognition of the elusive crest on his frame diverting it's single-minded attentions. He revved his engine in blatant warning, back off stupid bird, and it responded to the threat by ducking low. Allison was still watching him, seeming to not even notice the threat directly above her.

The bird made a warbling noise, spreading its long paneled wings to reveal the dappling of maroon panels on their undersides. It's threatening posture was not lost on him, and as it maneuvered to strike he had to take action. He spared no expense and floored the gas, shooting up the ramp just as the metallic flier lept off the ledge with startling grace and beelined in his direction. It shot just past Allison's head as she was just barely beginning to scramble away, her much smaller cry drowned out in the very audible screech of the bird as it swooped past her. He barrelled up the ramp and twisted sharply, back end sliding with an ear-splitting squeal as tires skid on pavement. The flying monstrosity wheeled away, clipping his side panel and emitted a furious electronic howl as it attempted to right it's path.

It fired, a single shot of hot, scalding light from it's gaping maw, but the shot went wild, scorching the ground as he peeled away, back end grinding against the concrete for traction. He forced himself into reverse, gunning all his systems and literally shot backwards in a scramble to get out of the bird's line of fire. Instead of repeating the attack, the bird sliced past him, raking his back fin with unforgiving claws as it swooped into the shadows of the parking structure, disappearing from site and moments later from his weakened sensory range.

It was suddenly quiet again, and he fumed silently to himself, the nagging sting lingering on his back end from where that infernal creature had knicked him. On purpose he assumed, for that little beast enjoyed being a pain in the aft that one just couldn't catch. He let his engine die to a dull purr, effectively allowing himself to calm and get his functioning sensors back in order. Perhaps if he had turned at just a different time, accelerated a little quicker- no, it didn't matter. That insufferable lackey was hard to get one's hands on even when not constricted in an alternate form, but with Allison there, and in such a tight space something like that couldn't have been risked. Thankfully she'd gotten out of the area, and he'd barely been able to pick out her presence as his narrow-minded opponent departed. That small problem was no longer around, but that didn't clear the slate.

The bird itself was of no real concern. If he couldn't sense it, it likely wasn't up to no good, however the fact still remained that wherever that robotic fowl lingered, it's much dangerous main component would not be far. That sent a spark of panic through him as he realized he didn't quite know where Allison had gone. In her terror she'd fled, and he could just barely sense her presence to the north...

Which happened to be in the same vicinity that he was suddenly picking up a high level of activity, his systems once again shrilling an alarm he couldn't ignore. It was too much of a coincidence. Even in the short period he'd occupied this city, he knew enough to understand that this was not a normal occurrence, especially at this time of night. It was worrisome, especially considering whom he'd just encountered. If that bird had found something important enough to warrant its trademark espionage, then it was not unusual to presume that its decidedly much larger other half had a reason for it. And if there was a reason, knowing what he knew, acting on something was not a far-off assumption.

He spun his wheels, gathering up a charge of energy and threw out a sensory wave as he sped out of the parking lot. It spread in a static burst that shot back at him a myriad of information. Something was unstable. In the air, he could feel the growing collection of energy that was unmistakable, especially to him. The currents of energy and the gathering plume of intensity could only mean one thing. Something was about to blow sky high, and if his modules were still functioning correctly, Allison was very nearby. This was trouble.

Too close… All it took was one single pulse of intense panic to get his aching systems moving again, and he shot down the road. His spark jolted with renewed vigor, its hyper-charged pulse shooting every system into overdrive to fuel his hasty approach. Wheels barely touching the pavement, he shot around the corner just in time to see Allison fall, her head smashing into the unforgiving ground. Thankfully it wasn't what he'd feared, but it did nothing to lessen the urgency he now felt. He kicked his systems into high-gear, initiating his transformation sequence just as the impending explosion rocked the quiet street and shattered the night. Still moving, he skidded against the pavement in bi-pedal form as the last of his frame fell into place, breaking his momentum just before he reached Allison's prone form.

He could feel her eyes on him, and he spared literally a nanosecond of time to catch her gaze, which was alarmingly unclear and distant. Explanations had to come later, because now only one thing was important. He pounded the last few, agonizing steps towards her just as an immense chunk of rubble moved into the edges of his visual field. Acting purely on instinct, he doubled over her like a shield, smashing the offending bit of architecture with deadly precision that had been mastered over centuries of war. It shattered like a sheet of brittle foil, the particles rocketing every which way as other pieces of the carnage pelted his solid hide, barely so much as stinging him.

Allison was still on the ground, motionless, but her eyes still barely held onto consciousness. It was enough to know that she saw him, and whether she understood it or not there was no turning back now, and he had her eyes just as she went offline. He hovered over her for a beat, conflicting emotions churned his spark to a cold, agitated chill. He was finally free, but the cold irony and unbelievable odds that had finally forced his hand left him in a whirling conundrum. This could be the catalyst that brought the fire down on them.

The low wail in the distance told him it was time to move. Emergency response was on the way and he had to move quickly, but delicately if he was to successfully relocate Allison to somewhere a little less dangerous. He was no medic, but a quick, meager diagnostic scan of her systems told him she suffered no permanent damage. He was large, and she was very tiny, yet he scooped Allison up with unprecedented care. It was difficult, but he managed to shift from one form to another with her body in both his hands. It was a maneuver he'd never performed before in all his existence, but he managed it with little awkwardness as his body formed a shell around her as a shield from the harsh elements around them. The femme safe inside him, he didn't stop to investigate the scene. A small sensation of guilt stirred inside him as he sped off, knowing he was leaving the other casualties behind. It wasn't something his leader would condone. However, he was on his own, and the only thing that drove him was the protection of this one femme. Behind him, the fire reached higher into the sky, and in the distance a siren could be heard, but both receded into the distance as he drove off into the night.

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**02/27/2011 - Minor clean-up**


	6. Hole in the Wall

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**If it wasn't already painfully obvious, we now get to meet our somewhat creepy observer!**

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Allison had no idea what time it was when she was finally pulled out of her heavy slumber by overwhelming sunlight. The first thing she noticed was the chill of free-flowing air that hit the back of her neck. She was curled up facing the back of a couch, her couch, with no recollection as to how she got there. In fact, she couldn't even recall coming home the night previously, the last thing she remembered standing near a bush and-

OH!

That's when the pain hit. Allison moaned, trying to shift her body, as her head was stabbed with lances of pain that forced her eyes to shut tightly against the mid-morning light. Her mouth was dry, and the ache in her head seemed to fill her entire skull like someone had dumped in an entire bucket of sand. A big bucket from what she could tell, and it was enough to make the scattered memories of the night before jump in and out of her reach before she could get a handle on what had truly transpired. A spasm of fear ripped through her as the thought occurred to her that she had been drugged and indeed kidnapped. She remembered two drunk men, and not a whole lot after that, yet the fact that she was in her own home and intact challenged that nagging horror enough for her to dismiss it. Had Danny found her and brought her home? He knew where she lived, so it wouldn't have been impossible... but she seemed to be alone. How... did I get here?

How long had she been out? That was the next pressing thought that suddenly occurred to her as the very idea of work suddenly made her very interested in what time it was. She was also wondering why it was so infernally bright in her living room, unnaturally bright, like an entire wall was missing.

That thought followed her as she lifted herself up gingerly, her head protesting loudly as she craned her neck around. She flipped over, turning around towards the back of her apartment where the second-story balcony was; also the general direction of her clock. She was expecting to see that she was outstandingly late, but that, and the reality of what she actually saw couldn't have been any further from similar than oil and water. At first she froze, not really believing what she was seeing, assuring her better sense quite firmly that she was hallucinating. After all, why on earth would a rather large, metallic humanoid shape be in her window, staring straight back at her?

A few tense moments went by and the figure didn't simply melt away, much to her alarm, which confirmed that whatever it was, was definitely real. It continued to stare, rather, peer at her with what she strangely took as something akin to interest: A very human expression. But as intriguing as that may have seemed to anyone else, Allison wasn't particularly in the right state of mind to start welcoming giant robots to her balcony. Instead, she finally jerked forward in one spastic motion as panic set in, nearly tumbling off the couch into the small table in front of her. She threw her body back in an attempt to right herself, and cried out as she overcompensated, flipping over the back onto the hard floor beneath. She lay there, unmoving, waiting for the pain in her head and back to subside and for her heart rate to right itself, hoping beyond all hope that this was the point where she'd wake up again. But when she didn't wake up and the immediate atmosphere never faded to black, she began to fully accept that something extremely odd was going on, and sooner or later she was going to have to face it. After all, from what she could tell from her position on the floor, the figure that occupied her window space had not moved an inch.

Peeking around the corner of her couch she looked out at her visitor, who was watching her with a widened expression that now looked like panic. Honest-to-God panic on a face that definitely wasn't human despite all the visual similarities, and when it saw that she had not died when she hit the floor, it lifted a hand a gave it a tentative waggle.

Did that thing just wave at me?

That's when she finally noticed the vicinity immediately surrounding this unfamiliar visitor, and that it was definitely not the way she'd left it the morning before. This stirred a mild sense of panic in her as the thought suddenly occurred to her that having a giant robot outside her balcony was not the most conspicuous of things to be going on. At least it explained the source of unusually bright sunlight and that peculiar breeze she'd woken up to.

"Th-the WALL!" The words came out in a stutter as she finally came to a shaky stand, tentatively taking a brave step forward. She hadn't directed it at the figure in question, but upon seeing the gaping hole that had previously been her balcony and adjoining wall she'd found it hard to stop the words from pouring out of her mouth. To her utter disbelief, the robot responded to her voice, almost like it had understood what she'd said. Its body shifted, moving back a mere inch or so as it lifted its massive hands from what remained of her back wall. Crumbles of plaster pattered to the ground in a course flurry of dust as it drew its arms back and away from the inside of the room. Its eyes shifted, as what appeared to be its own form of metallic lids turned upwards in what was oddly unmistakable as shame.

"I was in a hurry."

At first, Allison thought she'd completely gone nuts, now reduced to hearing voices. Perhaps she'd hit her head and was more critically injured than she thought. But no, that couldn't be the case. The robot had no mouth she could see, but more of a mask like plating that covered the portion of its face where the mouth should have been. Yet, she couldn't help but swear that it had indeed spoken to her. The voice had been clear, smooth, but with a timbre to it that suggested a personality with only the slight hint of an electronic crackle. There was an accent there, a dialect that she couldn't quite place.

"Um," she hesitated, taking a shaky breath. This just wasn't normal. Yet, she wasn't as afraid as she knew she should have been. Her heart was still pounding, hard, but the primal instincts to flee, or to even scream for help, had not even made an attempt to take control over her reflexes. There was something curious about the fact that she didn't feel the need to run. This robot, however large and imposing, didn't radiate any sort of threat at all. "Um, excuse me?" she whispered in a small, cracking voice. "Were you talking to me?" Finding some strength she managed to make her question sound more confident.

Again, it responded, this time with an ever so slight tilt of the head as it regarded her, eyes now wide as the metal lids slid away. The slightly childish gesture from a robot was an unexpected twist to what was already turning out to be a fantastic morning. But, she remembered those eyes, and despite her best attempts at not to stare, her urgent curiosity compelled her to really look the thing in the eye. Perhaps it was a human tendency, as the eyes were the first place a person was drawn to when meeting up with a living being. Not that there was any way of knowing just how alive this thing was. But it had eyes, so she naturally felt inclined to look at them while attempting to communicate with it.

"Allison, how are you feeling?"

The voice was soft, yet firm; the underlying intelligence beneath each word undeniably clear, and there was _definitely _an accent that for some reason made Allison think of the eastern United States: New York, or even New Jersey. This was no ordinary programmed machine with canned responses, no, this definitely felt like more. There was no denying that it was talking to her, for that time she'd actually noticed reaction in its face when it spoke. In fact, despite the lack of a mouth, it seemed to be compensating for that with two, large panels on the sides of its head that blinked a bright, even-toned blue with each rolling syllable. There was no outward appearance of emotion other than its eyes, but the character of its voice did all that work for it.

"You… know my name?" Allison finally managed after a few moments of silence. Its eyes had never left her, and it tilted its head again, this time in the other direction as if to get a look at her from another angle.

"I know a great deal about you…" Again, the soft, repetitive blinking that was almost hypnotic, and it would have had Allison transfixed had she not suddenly remembered about the white car. This was the car. The same, colorful green and red lines on what she could see of it's chest was more than enough to tell her. She also vaguely recognized the deep silver color of what had been the spoiler, now a pair of massive fins on its back that looked like sharp, angular wings. The rest of what she could see was white, and that was all that connected it to the car, but it was enough to confirm that all her previous suspicions were true. There had been something weird about that car, but while she could find some satisfaction in knowing that her instincts had been partially right, she knew that in a million years she would have never guessed this.

"I suppose that should surprise me... but it really doesn't…" she said quietly, tearing her eyes away to look at the floor. Locking eyes with the robot, which had matched her stare with its own had started to get unsettling. It was like staring into the unfathomable abyss of the universe itself. She sensed age, and intelligence far beyond anything she could understand. It made her feel warm with discomfort. "You've been following me haven't you?" she said, unsure of what sort of conversation she should have been initiating

The robot didn't respond to her immediately, and almost appeared to be considering its response before it said anything. She looked back up and noticed what almost looked like a blink, odd, considering its eyes were nothing more than two glowing spheres on it's face that looked like soft halogen lights. The metal lids she'd seen before apparently behaved like human eyelids, and she wondered what purpose blinking served for a robot. Before she could even get a chance to respond, something new caught her eye and she gaped.

"You have a rocket on you're shoulder." She blurted, quite stupidly. As if the situation hadn't gotten strange enough, it was pushed past extremely unbelievable, to downright ridiculously impossible. There was actually a rocket on its right shoulder, or rather, what appeared to be some form of a rocket launcher that was a mere extension of the robot's frame. It sat, quite comfortably next to its head as if it was nothing more out of the ordinary than another arm or leg. But the fact that it was pointing straight at her did nothing to alleviate the tension she now felt gripping the edges of her reality.

The robots eyes flashed once, sparkling, and seemed to increase in intensity. For one, panicked moment Allison feared she had insulted it, possibly enough to warrant it blasting her to pieces. Mentally and physically she braced herself, tensing, but instead-

"Doesn't everybody?"

A blast never came, and Allison actually thought for a second that she'd heard the response wrong. The robots eyes seemed wider, more colorful as its little panels blinked in sync with what appeared to be an off-handed comment. It was actually trying to be funny. There was a giant robot cracking jokes outside her window and she was beside herself with disbelief.

"Could you excuse me for a minute?"

The robot looked at its wrist for a moment as if it had a watch, before looking at her and nodding. "Sure. A minute. Approximately 60 Earth seconds. Of course."

"Ok. Um… thanks. I'll… I'll just be a minute." Allison ignored the fact that the robot in fact, did not have a watch, and walked back to her couch and sat down where she could face the opposite wall. In this little zone she could almost pretend everything was normal again. All she could see was her apartment, still, if not a little bit brighter and open than usual. It still held a sense of normalcy, dishes from her breakfast the morning before, a crumpled dish towel on the counter top, the charging cable for her cell phone was still sitting just below the outlet where she'd forgotten to plug it in the night before; little objects and reminders of what had been a day before, now seeming completely out of place and almost absurd.

"It has been 60 seconds Allison. Do you need more time?" the voice interrupted behind her. She didn't know if she was just intentionally ignoring it or not, but she didn't move. Leaning forward slightly she rubbed her temples with her fingers, trying to alleviate the slight pressure building up inside. Through the corner of her eye she spotted the small table beside the couch with her land-line phone on it. She reached across and her hand touched the cool plastic of the phone, but she hesitated. Who would she call? The Police? That was laughable. What on earth would they do? What would she even say? "There's a giant robot standing outside my window… oh, and it's armed"? They'd hang up on her immediately, probably drive over there just with the intent on dragging her away. She highly doubted they'd be able to put up any sort of fight anyway. Judging by the size of the robot, and not to mention the size of the high-powered weapon it carried around like it was a purse, any sort of emergency response wouldn't likely be able to do much.

No, Allison was on her own. She was on her own to face whatever fate had decided to throw into her lap, and so far she wasn't liking it. The events of the past month, starting with the disappearance of Doctor Arkeville only made this new turn of events slightly more outlandish, but yet, slightly easier to swallow. Was it all connected? Had some of those theories been true? Was Arkeville the reason why this monstrosity was standing at her apartment's gaping hole, now drumming its massive fingers absently against the splinters of her floor? She sighed heavily and stood up. Turning with purpose, she walked back towards the balcony where her visitor still waited.

"Sorry about that."

"It's quite alright Allison," the thing said casually. "Do you really like my shoulder rocket?" it said, turning it's body around ever so slightly, pointing with one finger at the weapon resting at its collar. It tapped at it gently a few times, and the hard surface of the explosive appendage made a delicate ping as it regarded it with a sense of regal pride.

"It's…very nice." She said slowly.

"Self designed and constructed you know. No stock standards on this baby. All custom built using natural Cybertonian-…" It stopped suddenly. She was shaking her head.

"What are you?"

The thing looked a little taken aback, almost apologetic once again. If anything, this… creature was rather sensitive. She was starting to think "thing" was probably the wrong term to use. As such, she quickly corrected herself. "Who are you. Where are you from?" She paused. "Where is my wall?"

"Your wall is unevenly distributed around my feet as of this moment. Also, I am an interplanetary being, from a trans-spacial colonization called Cybertron." It said matter-of-factly as if this should have been common knowledge to her. Instead, she just stared at it, completely lost for words.

No, him.

Somehow "it" didn't seem quite fitting anymore after exchanging the last few phrases with this being. Her mind automatically assigned the male gender to it, perhaps, just from the deepness of the voice alone, but the build and shape certainly exuded masculinity. She obviously didn't know enough about this creature to know if it truly had a gender or not, but for now, her mind wanted to place some shred of normalcy and recognition to something so utterly foreign. Thus, it was now a he to her, and it seemed fitting, but did nothing to clear up her bewilderment. Cybertron? Trans-spatial colonization? Perhaps he noticed her blank expression and correctly analyzed that as confusion, so as if to help her he lifted one finger and pointed into the air; up.

"So you're from... space." She said it more as a statement than a question.

"Correct. As for who I am, my official designation is Wheeljack."

"Wheeljack." She repeated the word. It sounded so simple… so Earthly. "That doesn't sound very alien to me…"

"That's because it's not. It's a literal translation. Look, I'm really sorry about your wall Ms. Allison. I really am. I can fix it for you." He bent down, his mass emitting an array of unearthly electronic droning, like eerie hydraulics programmed from a computer. As his body shifted, vibrations rumbled like deep thrumming purrs, all the various little pieces moving and sliding together in total synchronization.

When he stood up, she noticed he was holding a large chunk of her wall. He attempted to prop the wood and brick back where it had originally sat, but it shattered into small pieces and nearly half of it scattered across her already filthy floor. Additional pieces of the wall crumbled off, and he appeared to struggle with it, as if trying to catch all the little bits that were long irreparable.

"Eh.. maybe later."

"It's OK. Don't worry about it. Just tell me why you're here...Wheeljack." Allison raised her hands, still turning the name around in her head.

The mechanization stood up straight, but his eyes seemed to soften in hue. "To protect you, Ms. Allison."

This stunned Allison, sending a spasm of alarm through her body at his words. It was weird enough that a giant metal monstrosity was standing there holding up the remnants of her house, but now he was telling her, in his own words, his own human words, that he was here to protect her.

"From... what?" she spluttered in disbelief.

Wheejack, for the first time, showed apprehension. "It's not safe here to discuss that. We've lingered far too long. We should roll."

Allison's brow furrowed. "Roll? You mean as in... drive somewhere?"

"I know a place we can stay, for a small while."

"I…don't really know if I can trust you enough to go with you." Allison said in a panicked rush, feeling like a dam had burst right on top of her and she was given only seconds to cope with fate. This was moving too fast, and she was very uncomfortable with the idea of running off with this giant robot that shared a name with something out of a mechanic's toolbox. He hadn't threatened her, quite the opposite in fact, but something about running off into this particular unknown made her feel... edgy.

Wheeljack must have sensed this, because the most curious thing happened then. He seemed to droop, as if all the separate pieces of plating on his body wilted like melted scraps. She didn't understand if that was truly happening, or if it was a trick of the eyes; this robot was that adept at showing human emotion.

"Ms. Allison. I assure you, you can trust me."

In her head, the events of the night prior flashed through her mind. It seemed to flick past in still images. Jarred frames like a scratched DVD, the events lurching everywhere. The car. The garage. A burning building, an explosion; fire. And the glow of two fiery eyes. Eyes that had for a moment looked like headlamps as a mysterious vehicle appeared from the darkness to save her. That same car that had followed her for weeks, stalking her, and now stood before her outside her apartment.

"How do I know your not responsible for everything that's happened? And stop calling me 'miss' it makes me feel old..."

"Sorry.. ah... Allison..." Wheeljack paused, the glow of his eyes blinking softy as he peered at her with an investigator's interest. "You don't." Wheeljack said after a moment of scrutiny, his hands together, and was wringing them, as if suddenly nervous. "But I can offer you some answers."

She stared at the machine known as Wheeljack. "Can you tell me where Doctor Arkeville is?"

Wheeljack reached out and placed his hand, palm up, on the floor beside her. "Unfortunately not, for he failed to alert anyone as to where he was going or why he disappeared..."

"So this does involve him... I knew it!" If only Danny knew about her current situation, he'd likely wet himself from the sheer enormity of what was standing before her. "Well?"

Wheeljack didn't respond right away, for he had somehow let his attention get jerked away by nothing other than a crane fly that had fluttered into the opening space between them. She watched him quietly, dumbfounded, as his gaze followed the movements of the insect completely transfixed. It fluttered away, likely not even aware of the rapt attentiveness of the glowing blue eyes that followed it, and finally disappeared from Allison's direct line of sight. Wheeljack seemed to blink out of his distracted stupor and looked back at her as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" He said, and Allison couldn't quite believe what she'd just seen.

"My boss."

"Ah, well, to be honest, I only know very little. He was not too interested in telling Optimus where he was going..." Wheeljack started, then cut himself off. "Listen, it really is starting to get uncomfortable standing out here in the open. I'm quite shy you know," and he wriggled a little bit from where he was standing, a subtle change visually. His body made an array of noises with even the smallest of movements.

"Shy?"

"Oh yes. I'm more the sort to stay in front of my work bench than go to functions and meetings. I've spent entire cycles working on my projects, shunning society for the benefit of my hobbies. Though 'm sure you more social creatures could never relate to something like that. I can't quite imagine such flesh and blood animals sitting in a chair for even an hour let alone an entire day, ignoring sunlight and fresh air for the sake of something so synthetic. In fact..."

"You'd be surprised," said Allison, butting in. Oh my god, she thought. He's rambling…

"Anyway where was I? Right then, I'm extremely shy, and I don't think your neighbors would be too understanding if they saw me out here." He shifted yet again, bringing his hand closer to her in a distinct beckoning gesture. She still wasn't entirely sure she could trust stepping into a large hand, which frankly was only just large enough to really carry her whole body. His palm was up. Contrasting against the hard, wiry plates of the rest of his hand and fingers, his palms looked somewhat softer, the material appearing more malleable and forgiving, like strips of thinly wired mesh. It was clearly no pillow, but she suspected the difference in material served a purpose, perhaps, for tactile sensors or whatever the robot equivalent was.

"Optimus?" she asked, breaking away from her musings and bringing to question something he had mentioned before. She eyed the hand that was still resting just a few feet from her on the floor.

"Later Allison, let's go before we are seen." And while his body made no visual sign of impatience, it certainly was clear in his voice. His words were quick, cut with very bright flashes from the panels that framed his face.

Allison turned to look at the interior of her house. She sighed, not knowing what to truly do. She was torn between her better sense, and she hated to admit it, but her compelling curiosity to see just what exactly this Wheeljack actually wanted from her, and why he seemed to think he needed to protect her. So far, he hadn't led her to believe that he was a threat, but it wasn't as if she'd run across many transforming robots in the past to be able to judge his character.

"How do I know you aren't going to just take me out and kill me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. He made a long, suffering noise, like what sounded like a human sigh but deeper, more chaotic, like air rushing through a million pipes at once.

"Look, if my intention had been to kill you, I could have easily done that last night, couldn't I?" he asked, the panels on his head blinking rapidly in quick succession, burning with impatience. He had a point, and she knew it.

"Well- err-" she started, but stopped. She looked down at his hand, which was still resting on the floor just near the edge, and switched her gaze back to the rest of her home. Ah hell, she was already late for work anyway..

"I suppose things can't get any stranger..." she sighed. "How does this work?" she put a toe forward and swayed a bit, sheepishly unsure of what he wanted her to do despite the obvious offering of his hand. His eyes glittered.

"Up you get." And his hand flinched to draw her attention. "I'll lower you down to the ground out here so that we may better prepare ourselves to leave." She didn't really understand what he meant, after all, the only thing outside that side of her apartment was a wide expanse of grassy field, broken sporadically by a tree or two. It eventually broke into low-rising hills not far in the distance. She thanked her luck that this was all that was out there, for had it been the other side of her apartment that would have been a different story. Living on the outskirts of town had actually proved to be useful for once.

Finally she mustered her courage and stepped forward, testing her balance as one foot stepped onto his palm. She wasn't sure how much of it he could feel, if she was pinching or possibly hurting him. The surface did feel firm, but gave just slightly underneath her weight, and she wondered briefly if it was bothersome to him before she felt her body pitch forward. What she could only assume were his fingers had nudged her, tapping her upper legs and throwing her toward his thumb as her world literally began to turn over.

Allison gasped as her stomach lurched, her head and neck swaying forward with vertigo as she collapsed against his palm, which was just big enough for her to cling to and feel some sense of stability. She felt like she was hovering in the air for an eternity, her sense of spatial capacity collapsing as Wheeljack's body turned swiftly. He started to kneel down, and once again her stomach nearly lifted into her throat as everything suddenly dropped. The sudden change in direction made her head spin, and she could feel herself quickly getting queasy.

As soon as it was begun everything stopped moving and she found herself at ground level again. She shakily slid off of his hand, half crawling, and dragged herself into the cool grass, thankful to be on a surface that wasn't spinning. Wheeljack was kneeling over her, his legs tucked underneath him as his hands rested at the joints of his knees. The weapon on his shoulder was now askew, as if intentionally pointing it in another direction away from her like he could control it. He looked almost forgiving.

"You should hopefully get used to that after a while… for an organic so small, you're heavier than I would have imagined," he said, but was cut off before he could say more.

"Don't say anything for a moment... I feel kind of sick." She said heavily, her legs finally allowing her to stand. Her knees shuddered and she stumbled, but quickly righted herself. Feeling his very large presence above her, Allison busied herself with trying to dust off her clothes in order to avoid truly seeing what stood before her. She was filthy from the events of the previous evenings. Splotches of black soured her shirt and the thighs of her jeans, charring from the blast that had thrown her to the ground. One of her knees was torn, and most of her shirt was frayed and slightly singed over. She looked a mess, and cursed herself for not making him wait for her to grab some clothes, but apparently time had been of the essence.

Allison finally spared a hesitant look in Wheeljack's direction, and he was looking off into the distance, towards to direction of one of the lower-lying hills. The grassy fields there had previously been a farm years early, remnants of cracked, stumped fencing peppering the visage of the knoll.

"There is a place over there, two clicks to the east where there are no prying eyes," he said, gesturing off in the distance with one hand. Allison squinted, and she could barely make out the outline of what had been a large shed, or an old barn house. It was hard to tell, for the colors had long-since faded and now seemed to blend into the hills.

"I'm not going anywhere with you unless I know I'm going to get some answers," she said firmly, trying to regain some of the meager confidence she had before. She swallowed hard, and finally looked at Wheeljack, who was still knelt near her. He easily dwarfed her, and with some discomfort she realized that this was clearly not his full height. The action itself appeared slightly uncomfortable, for the way he was built it felt like it should have been physically impossible for him to bend that way. He had all the joints in the right places, but it just looked physically awkward.

"Of course Allison, I have every intention of explaining things to you to the best of my abilities, yet, I'm afraid I am somewhat in the dark just as you are. Perhaps at least, I can offer you some sort of reassurance."

She nodded slowly, resigned to her fate. His voice, and just something about him was unbelievably disarming. She was conflicted between trust and fear, but something in her brain told her that there was nothing to fear; It was instinct.

At her queue he stood, making her realize just how misleading his previous position had been. From this vantage point she could now get the full scope of his size. Big was an understatement, and she had to tilt her head nearly all the way back just to see his face. For one second she wildly wondered if she'd made a massive mistake as he looked down at her from above.

Then all at once Wheeljack literally started to shrink, collapse into himself as all his little pieces began to readjust and fold, whirring and grinding together in perfect harmony. It almost looked like he was breaking apart. At first glance it looked chaotic, even grotesque, but looking closer there was an organization and natural sequence to it that must have been a process mastered after continued practice and grace. Every piece shifted and fell into place as his mass fell to the ground. It was noisy, yet very alien, a deep thrum of energy as Wheeljack was replaced by a familiar white car that almost seemed to slam to the ground, it's wheels jerking into place with a loud whir of servos just as the frame touched down. Then suddenly everything was silent, and the white car, which she now knew as Wheeljack sat quietly before her where the massive robot had stood just seconds before.

Looking at it now, she could hardly associate it with the common automobile that everyone knew and couldn't seem to tear themselves away from. The vroom vroom kind, gas run, and certainly not sentient. This in front of her was so entirely nonsensical that she couldn't even call it a car anymore. Was it still technically him? Could he still see her, speak to her? After all, his face had entirely disappeared, seeming to tuck itself away into some hidden nook amongst his inner workings. She knew if she stood there trying to comprehend how he was supposed to fit together she'd probably go crazy.

After seeing him in what she could only assume was his normal body shape, the human shape, she could point out all the connections to him that the car still possessed. It certainly was anything but practical, but then again, neither was his shoulder rocket, which was now thankfully hidden. The whole visual sensation was very shiny indeed.

The driver side door suddenly popped open, and Allison took this as a request to get in. As if the entire experience of riding on his hand hadn't been strange enough, now he seemed to want her to climb inside. At this point there really was no turning back, and she obliged, tentatively running her hand along the top of the door where the window panel ended. It was smooth, and for such little surface area surprisingly warm to the touch. Warmer than she would have assumed a metal armored machine would have felt, but then again with all the internal processors he likely had running at any given time it didn't come as too much of a surprise.

Allison didn't so much as sit down into the driver seat as fall into it, the door taking on that life of its own again and literally pushing her in. Allison caught herself by clinging to the steering wheel and managed to adjust her position just as the door clicked shut next to her. It looked enough like a car inside. She'd half expected the interior to look like a metal cage, but instead it was quite plush, and possessed all the same amenities that any normal car off the lot would. The steering wheel was there, parking break, shift, pedals, even what looked like a very bare-bones radio that looked surprisingly old compared to the rest of the car in terms of style. The entirety may have been a little more sparse, less "decorated" perhaps, and altogether a little more cramped than any normal car. She assumed that his interior space was likely needed for more important internal components. She was surrounded by a deep reddish color, which gave Allison the sickening impression of blood. If that hadn't been enough, it was warm, really warm, and seemed to be empowered with slightest vibrating pulse, like a living heartbeat.

Which makes sense I suppose, she thought, though it was still unsettling.

"So..." Allison jumped, as Wheeljack's voice seemed to echo throughout the cabin. Her attention had been caught by the radio dial that slid around wildly as his voice spoke, going still just as the interior fell silent again. So he could speak in this form. There was something very eerie about sitting inside what she could only assume was his chest, especially now that it had been confirmed he could still hear her and speak to her, and likely feel everything that went on.

"Am I supposed to.. um, drive you?" she asked timidly, her hands hovering over the steering wheel unsure if she should touch. For one thing she had no idea what she really would be putting her hands on.

"Primus no, I'm perfectly capable of maneuvering myself, thank you very much," he responded, a touch of humor in his voice as once again the dial quivered back and forth wildly. Allison felt the surrounding vibrations intensify, and the thrumming increased just slightly in pitch as she could feel Wheeljack begin to roll forward and around towards the open field. His speed increased slowly, and Allison saw the wheel gently circle back and forth as Wheeljack changed directions. She snapped her hands back, suddenly fearful. "…but you're most welcome to place your hands there if it makes you feel more comfortable. Just try not to crank it too hard in any direction. That would hurt a little."

"Okay," she said quietly, and resolved to leaving her hands in her lap. They were going out into the fields, away from her apartment, and she forced herself not to look back. That would only remind her of the explaining she would need to do to the landlord. Not something she relished.

Instead of focusing on that she tried to look around her. Wheeljack's pace was quick, but he didn't seem to be in any type of a rush anymore. They were coming closer to what she had previously thought was a barn, an abandoned one at that, and as it slowly crept closer into view Allison realized from this distance it likely looked a lot smaller than it actually was. A perfect place for a being of his size to hide. To fill the time, she wasn't sure what to say, and didn't quite know how to gauge if Wheeljack was even up for idle conversation. But before she could make up her mind on what to bring up he spared her that duty and spoke up himself.

"Now, perhaps we should start with what happened to your car.."

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**02/27/2011 - Simple edits again, although I cleaned up this first dialogue exchange between Allison and Wheeljack and added some things here and there.**


	7. Metal Abyss

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Authors note: I've been trying to keep background descriptions brief, as I'm sure, most everyone knows something about Transformers lore if they're poking around here. **

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"I'm listening..." Allison said hotly, her interest piqued but temper decidedly more heated. This Wheeljack had some hand in her car's fate, and she wanted to know about it. She tried to mute the burn in her emotions by keeping her voice even, not wanting to instigate anything with such a completely foreign, and potentially dangerous stranger. Things were slowly starting to make sense.

"Funny story actually... quite a remarkable piece of machinery I might add, absolutely fascinating in terms on ingenuity and-"

"Did you break my car?" Allison cut in, still trying to keep her voice even, but her voice shook as she wrapped her arms around her chest. She was careful not to brush against Wheeljack's steering wheel as it continued to glide smoothly back and forth. "On purpose?" She added. It was silent for a beat, and she briefly wondered if Wheeljack was actually trying to choose his words in order to sound less incriminating.

"Well, break is such a general statement, it was more along the lines of a few- ah- adjustments. Quite minor in fact, although I take enough to stump those so-called 'mechanics'... Easily reversed actually, I'm surprised humans of such technical know-how did not have the resourcefulness to spot it sooner," he commented casually, almost with a hint of disdain as if the fact that his "minor changes" had gone unnoticed was a personal insult.

"Well, you're 'adjustments' broke my car... and thanks to you, I was in a whole world of inconvenience because of it," Allison sighed, and glanced up. They were definitely heading in the direction of what she could now confirm was an old, run down barn. It's paint had been weathered by the elements, the entire structure a relic of what must have been a bright, cheerful piece of architecture in the past. It was now a derelict shadow, slightly stooped to the left, it's roof caked in a heavy growth of moss.

"Really Allison, I don't break things. I merely suspend their use until further notice. Besides, it was for a purpose. I wanted to be sure you couldn't go too far."

Allison held her response back until she could process what he'd just said and how to respond. Thinking about it, letting that last sentence run through her head made her feel just a little uneasy. Sitting inside him now, she could almost imagine herself in captivity. His persistence in watching her and hand in ensuring she couldn't actually go anywhere without being completely inconvenienced now felt like one gigantic kidnapping maneuver.

Yet, he'd said it with very little aggression, his tone almost innocent and perhaps with enough naivety that maybe he didn't quite understand the consequences of his actions, or at the very least, what he'd said. She was half tempted to throw the door open and jump out. His pace was slow enough, and her mind seemed to think it was a good idea, but her body felt otherwise. She was caught in that state between stunned panic and horrified interest; like an animal caught in headlights that didn't quite know what to do, so transfixed with it's oncoming peril that it remained frozen until it's inevitable fate snuffed out it's life. One panicked thread of thought entered her head, as she imagined her captor suddenly throwing her from the car, cackling with grotesque satisfaction as he crushed her to death beneath his smothering weight. But-

"Have I offended you?" he asked tentatively, effectively startling Allison out of her horrific imaginings. She jumped as her musings were cut short, and as if in response she felt the air inside Wheeljack's cabin still for just a moment, as if that thrumming energy had skipped a beat.

"No..." she started, but her voice was quiet. Wheeljack's pace slowed significantly, and she felt her body sway forward just slightly as he applied the breaks.

"It was not my intention to make you feel as if I was trying to control you, actually it was the opposite. As interested as I was in taking apart your car and tinkering with it, it was more for the purpose of making sure that I wouldn't lose you. Things are more dangerous than you might be accustomed to, and I don't trust any human protection to ensure your safety. Not from what is most assuredly seeking you, and anything you might know..." Wheeljack explained, rather hurriedly, and it sounded as if he was becoming agitated. The thrumming pulse inside had quickened just slightly, and Allison was starting to think more and more that it was definitely some kind of a heartbeat. It was just mildly distracting.

"What I know?" she asked quietly. "I know absolutely nothing. What is so important about me that makes you think I need to be watched?" Truthfully she was unremarkable, and if this had anything to do with her boss at all, well someone was definitely going to be disappointed if they were under the impression she was actually informed. Finally Wheeljack stopped completely, everything suddenly very still as they'd reached their destination.

Wheeljack's door clicked open, and Allison quickly got out, her discomfort at sitting inside a sentient robot making the fresh air extremely welcoming. No sooner had she straightened outside, before she felt as much as heard the swift movements of his transformation. It made her slightly edgy, seeing the ease in which Wheeljack rearranged all his parts. It was like he was bursting up from the ground, up and outwards like a controlled explosion, everything fitting into place in just a few seconds of organized chaos.

As soon as it was over he was crouching down in front of her, doing his best to level her vision with his. This was the closest she'd been to his actual face thus far, and she stepped back feeling just slightly intruded. His presence in such close proximity seemed to have an ethereal quality to it, a gentle murmuring of soft sounds, like the humming of an electronic symphony. One that penetrated deeper than just her initial aural perception, but seemed to encompass the entire body in waves.

"It is your mere connection to your boss that makes you so important. He holds quite a bit of faith in you. He trusts you," Wheeljack said, his panels blinking brightly. Allison thought that over for a bit, still unsure of this so called "faith" that Wheeljack seemed to think Arkeville had in her. Apparently it wasn't enough, for he'd told her nothing before he disappeared.

"Here's something I'd like to know," she said, trying her hardest not to look Wheeljack in the eyes. It was still uncomfortable, and she bit her lip as she forced her eyes away. He shifted his whole body as he nodded, his fingers clinging to the grass in little tufts.

"And I will answer to the best of my knowledge..."

"Okay... so what exactly is your connection to my boss? Does he know?" Allison asked, gesturing widely to more than just Wheeljack in front of her. "About all this?"

"Well that I do know!" Wheeljack said with some excitement, his panels glowing. "It just so happens that he worked closely with our primary human contact, and he stumbled across some very important information for us. Initially he had come forward with only a hint at what he had... but, unfortunately he's gone and gotten himself off the radar. We need to find him, and whatever he has," he explained.

Allison had remembered Doctor Arkeville talking briefly about various contracts and projects that had been slightly more veiled and hidden from public scrutiny, but he'd never given her details. He'd talked about it mainly in passing, and only if it had held some relevance to something he'd needed her to do. Transfer some file, seal some sort of document, etc. Normally he'd spoken with her in length about all manner of things, but she'd always remembered these types of situations had been more discreet.

Whether or not this had been one of those times, she had no way of knowing. She could tell when there were certain things he'd wanted to tell her, for there had in fact always been a large degree of trust between them. It had never surprised her of course when he couldn't. She wasn't so delusional to think she was somehow privileged to knowing more than she'd needed to, so she'd never pressed it. They'd always had a certain camaraderie together, and he'd been like a second father to her. He was a long time friend to her own mother, who had passed just after Allison had graduated from high school. In a dramatic turn of events everything had been taken by her estranged father, leaving Allison suddenly and inexplicably homeless. Arkeville and his wife had taken her in, and it was then that she'd been offered the chance to work as his own assistant. Naturally, this had created a level of trust between them, and a friendship that had landed him under the scrutinizing eye of the upper management more than once. He had always looked out for her best interest, and Allison considered herself to be in his debt for all that he'd done for her.

But this, was certainly something she would have never seen coming.

"What is this information?" Allison asked hopefully, but had a feeling she wasn't going to get a straight answer.

"That I'm afraid, I don't know..." Wheeljack trailed off, and Allison could have sworn she heard him growl deep beneath his face mask. This, clearly, was something of a sore spot for him. "All we know is that it was important, and the Decepticons want it."

Allison forced herself to look up, and finally looking into Wheeljack's face was startling. Up close, she could make out tiny intricacies that she hadn't seen before. The mask across his face was ridged, and looked as if it was locked into place at just the spot where the panels began. The surface of them she found, was not metal at all, but looked like shaved down translucent crystal. The rest of his face appeared to be made of slightly smoother material with a brushed finish, and looked almost malleable. The center of his face was adorned with rigid angles akin to the bridge of a human nose, with the tip meeting the edge of the mask across his face. There was just the slightest hint of perforations peppering the surface of the mask just beneath that, a fascinating observation considering it must have been for some type of sensory input just like what a human nose was for.

His eyes were perhaps the most startling of all. They were like giant globes of the purest blue light she'd ever seen, bright with a phosphorous-like glow and framed in separate panels that were the lids she'd seen before. It was still a mystery why he would have needed eye lids, but in just her short time with him so far, she'd already seen enough evidence of Wheeljack being an emotional being to make that seem feasible. All of his face seemed to sink neatly into what she could only describe as a ridged helmet, the two panels adding the final touch of balance to everything.

"A Decepti-what?" Allison questioned, and much to her alarm, Wheeljack narrowed his eyes, those thin little eyelids sliding into place around their glow. There was a sound of air cycling through the various paper-thin vents on his mask, and it was the same rough sound he'd made when standing at her apartment window, like air rushing through piping. She'd recognized it before, thinking she knew, but now it definitely seemed confirmed after he'd done it twice. Wheeljack was sighing.

"I suppose there is a lot more to explain to you then I thought..." he said wearily, his face mask giving off just the faintest hint of movement as he spoke. Ever so slowly he pushed himself to a stand to once again tower over her. Allison looked up at him, waiting for some kind of direction. "Perhaps we should go inside?" He motioned towards the barn, and Allison spared the briefest of moments wondering what kind of horrible fate might be awaiting her in there. That was quickly pushed aside as she was given the opportunity to actually see Wheeljack move for the first time; actually walk. It wasn't awkward as she might have expected, but instead he moved smoothly towards the entrance of the barn. His steps were heavy, but at the same time he stepped with controlled care, his joints murmuring a mixture of sounds of electronics and shifting components.

The entrance to the barn, she finally noticed, had long since lost its doors, but instead was covered by what looked like a heavy, tattered sheet of thick cloth. Even from where she was standing, she could tell that it was filthy, and she found herself resistant to walk towards it. Wheeljack saw her hesitation and pulled open the makeshift door for her, inviting her in. The logical part of her brain immediately humanized the act, seeing it as a distinctly gentlemanly thing to do, but she had no way of knowing if that was Wheeljack's intent or not. Were such behavioral displays confined to just humanity? Or did whatever form of life this strange mechanization belong to share similar traits? From how he'd behaved so far she wasn't about to put it past him.

"Trust me when I say it's safe. I've been here for longer than you might think" he said, making a sweeping motion with his other hand.

"The question is," Allison mumbled as she looked back towards her apartment building, "do I trust you when you say trust me." The building behind her quickly became a smudge in the distance, and it suddenly occurred to her how it odd it was that he'd been there for probably a while, so close to her, and she hadn't even known it. Shrugging inwardly she turned back and walked towards him, pausing just briefly to glance up at his face before entering the barn. He was looking back at her, and nodded once in affirmation. It was at that moment that Allison finally realized maybe she could trust trust him. At the very least, she was fairly confident that Wheeljack didn't plan on ripping her apart as soon as she stepped inside.

Allison wasn't sure what she'd expected when she walked in, but it definitely wasn't what she saw. The interior of the barn wasn't quite as horrible as she'd been leading herself to believe, given the state of the outside. It was actually quite empty. Whatever had been inside it prior to Wheeljack moving in had been completely gutted. Where the stuff had actually gone she had no way of knowing, but she could only assume that he'd disposed of it somehow. The wooden floor of the barn was pitted with small dips and scratches with repeated wear, but it retained an almost glossy sheen to it, and a smooth texture as if it had been taken care of as best as was possible. Taking a few steps into the middle of the room she turned and tried to take in what little there was.

The room was dim, with faint hues of orange bleeding through the thin sheets of parchment that were stuck over the inside of the windows. They were old and worn, presumably older than the length of time even Wheeljack had occupied this place. She found herself drawn to one of the windows and tried opening it to let in the light, but the wooden frame was firmly held, and the grime-covered glass rattled loudly without budging. She looked at the thick, black grease on the palms of her hands, grimacing with disgust as she wiped them on the sides of her jeans.

Running the length of the adjacent wall there was what appeared to be an old workbench, but in the mess it was hard to discern what it had actually been used for. She could make out what looked like a hammer, some copper wiring, wooden stakes and a couple of empty glass bottles. Dumped in an unceremonious pile at the end was an inconspicuous pile of scrap metal, mostly broken components and what looked like car parts (A quick inspection revealed them to not belong to her own vehicle).

In short, it looked somewhat boring. She couldn't even begin to fathom how Wheeljack had entertained himself. But then did a robot need entertaining? At the very least, Wheeljack seemed to be easily distracted. She could imagine him going stir crazy, cooped up in here. Though that depended on how patient a gigantic robot could be.

The room suddenly went black as she could hear the thick cloth flop back down to it's limp position against the door frame. Allison panicked for a brief moment as her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, and she whirled around. She could just faintly see the outline of Wheeljack and the dual glow of his eyes hanging in the air like cobalt fireflies. The gloomy light from the covered windows bathing their immediate areas in muted orange did absolutely nothing to aid her sight. She heard Wheeljack begin to move, taking a step towards her,and internally freaked out as she pressed her back against the worktable, straining to angle herself so the faint light could illuminate the space before her. One hand reached behind her and rested lightly on the handle of the hammer. She didn't know if he'd possibly run into her, or intended to crush her. It didn't matter. She readied herself for anything, the back of her mind knowing it was totally pointless.

"You don't need to use that," Wheeljack said, the blink of his panels adding an extra burst of light to the room and burned her eyes, banishing the darkness for the brief moments they glimmered. He continued, "Not that it would do much damage anyway."

"You could see that?" She felt a little sheepish, and released her grip on the handle.

"I can see you perfectly fine Allison, you don't have to worry about me…" he said, as if sensing her fear that his eye sight was as bad as hers in these conditions and he'd end up seriously hurting her, or worse, kill her. His voice seeming to echo in such a weird space only compounded those irrational fears, and it hadn't exactly been the quality of his eyesight she'd feared. She let her hand rest by her side, no longer concerned he was intentionally luring her to her death. But given that she couldn't even see her hands in front of her face she had only assumed that his senses in these conditions were just as bad.

"You know you aren't really helping-OW!" she cursed, having taken a step to the left, only to jam her exposed knee into something sharp. One hand on her knee, the other fumbled over the object. It was a metal clamp, tightly screwed to the worktop. The pain in her knee lingered as she jerked away, and shakily turned only to be met by the brightest white light in the entire world shining right into her face. She threw her arm up to shield her eyes, squinting tightly to try and discover the source. She wasn't surprised to trace it back to Wheeljack's eyes, which were acting as intense spotlights. "Stop it!"

Wheeljack pulled back slightly. "My apologies Allison," he said, his eyes dimmed slightly, enough so that she could still look at him with minimal damage to her eyesight, although she still had to squint against the glare. "Incredible. The amount you humans rely on your eyes over all your other senses is fascinating..." he added offhandedly. "We Cybertronians have a complex array of internal scans and functions that allow us to analyze our surroundings in cases where vision is limited," Wheeljack finished, maneuvering his light to a more suitable position that was not directly pointed at Allison. She blinked a few times to get rid of the burn-in that danced in front of her vision. The room was now substantially more illuminated, and now that she was able to see a little bit more she relaxed.

"So.. have you actually been living here?" Allison asked incredulously, taking another look around. It definitely was one of the most boring places she could imagine being in.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Wheeljack said, making some unseen adjustment on is forearm. "It's quite spacious isn't it? Teeming with all sorts of fascinating organic life forms and sounds of life all hours of the day, " he rambled.

"It's awful Wheeljack, awful…" she trailed off, now suddenly aware that she could feel her whole body itching. She rubbed herself frantically, his mention of life forms convincing her that she had all sorts of these "fascinating creatures" crawling all over her. "Don't you get bored in here? Do you hang around in that, uh, car form all day and night.. or just when you were following me around?" she said with just a mild bit of sarcasm. His eyes glowed brighter for a split second, in that same way she noted when he was trying to be humorous. He gestured to the entire room,

"Once again Allison, you've let your eyes deceive you… Never allow first glances to be the only thing you perceive," he said in a sing-song way. He's actually lecturing me she thought scornfully.

"Actually, this is merely a diversion, it's a decoy for what's really here…" he said, and the light shifted, briefly spinning past her eyes again, as Wheeljack turned and sauntered heavily over to a large pile of trash thrown in a heap in a far corner of the room. Wheeljack emitted an odd chirping noise, and Allison was alarmed at the sight of the pile of rubbish moving, as a snake-like appendage weaved its way up from within the pile of garbage. On the end of it was a flat panel of sorts, a glowing screen with chaotically complex, scrawled symbols that contrasted harshly against the background. Wheeljack poked at it a few times, and the ground beneath Allison started to tremor.

It began with a small sliver of light that erupted from the innocuous pile of discarded trash, followed by a series of mechanical groans as the entire pile began to part and break in half. It was then that she noticed that the pile itself wasn't just made of independent, miss-matching parts, but beneath the surface layer of filth, cans and other waste matter was a clearly united assembly of metal parts. As it opened, the light beam widened and spread, bathing the entire inside of the barn with white, inorganic light, reflected strange patterns off of Wheeljack's surface. He stood before it proudly, looking down into the open space that the parting of the pile revealed; a ramp, that lead down under ground into a space she couldn't see from her vantage point.

Wheeljack transformed back into his car shape, his height too great to allow him easy passage down into the bowels of whatever the ramp led to. Once he was settled into his familiar vehicular form, instead of moving forward he remained still.

"You never know what treasures might be hiding in a pile of garbage," Wheeljack said, his voice clear even when there was no visible face that the words were coming from. Allison couldn't help but roll her eyes a little walking forward, assuming that he meant for her to follow him. If anything, Wheeljack was eccentric, or at the very least just mildly crazy. But in some weird way it was almost endearing. For something so huge, while there was certainly a lot of personality, it was strange to her to find such a bizarre one. It almost made him human.

Human. That term was getting more and more blurred as her bizarre morning continued on. Each new phrase he uttered, each little nuance of his character or his actions, made her perception of what that meant even more skewed. Allison was starting to wonder what it could really be applied to anymore. If she were asked to use any term to describe Wheeljack, she'd certainly say human for lack of a better word; regardless of what he was actually made of. That was starting to seem irrelevant.

Allison stopped just short of Wheeljack's back panel, resisting the urge to run her hand against his glittering spoiler. When he was shaped like a car it was almost easy to forget that he wasn't, just a car, and come close to doing something that may be construed as inappropriate. She still had no idea what sort of a culture he may have come from, and what types of taboos were built into his personality. Instead she kept her hands to herself, but standing next to him was still and odd feeling, for even though she wasn't directly touching him, he still vibrated with life.

He coasted forward and down, the ramp a little bit steeper than what Allison was comfortable with, but she made due. She slowly crept down cautiously, absorbing the look and the feel of the space around her. Once she hit the bottom she was met with an enormous room overwhelmed with space. The walls themselves looked to be welded together from a jumble of different varieties of scrap metal, the colors creating an array of patterns around the room. It was much brighter than above, but not enough to be overbearing, for she guessed that Wheeljack had needed to make due with what he could find. It looked like a makeshift workshop of sorts, two of the walls covered in car parts and bits of machinery in a wide array of sizes and functions.

In the center of the room was the most bizarre item, for what she took for a "work table" was little more than an old, broken down van that had been stripped of its parts and turned over onto its roof. There was one long, flat piece of metal that had been thrown on top of it to allow for a more stable surface. In some weird way it was almost cannibalistic, for a being who could actually become a car to so easily break one apart for his own uses. However, that started to raise even more questions about him that she couldn't ignore.

Wheeljack spared no time once he was in the open space and transformed into his bipedal form, turning to face Allison who'd found that she felt less overwhelmed with her back against one of the farthest walls. Trying not to feel like a cornered animal, she leaned down and sat.

"I suppose a small history lesson is in order, but I'm afraid it'll have to be brief.. for time is of the essence," Wheeljack said, putting his massive hands on his hips in a very human gesture. "Unless there is something specific you would like to ask me first?"

Allison thought back to the car that lie pathetically gutted in the middle of the room, and tried to work her question carefully,

"So, what is the purpose of... the whole car… thing? Can you just change into whatever you want or is there a reason for it being a car?"

Wheeljack "blinked" and paused for a minute before he responded.

"On Cybertron it is merely how we've adapted to what we do and where we live. In a time of war, it became a method of defense, mobility, camouflage actually, for it is how we are able to blend into our surroundings," he replied. "And most Cybertronians can only sustain one alternate form at a time. I merely scan what I want to become and it is programmed into my being."

Allison thought about that for a moment. It seemed to make sense, and the concept wasn't nearly as alien as the being performing the action. Animals on earth used various means to adapt to their surroundings and utilize some form of "camouflage". Humans had lost that need long ago, and their methods of adapting had been, well, she was sorry to say, dominance and pure negligence of the environment.

"Does it, well, hurt? Or is it just a normal thing you do?"

"I suppose it is no different to you bending down or putting on clothes, only with more moving parts. It is true that, as with anything, it is a skill that must be learned and perfected. Sparklings are awkward and fussy when they begin to upgrade to the stage of their first alt mode, but with practice it becomes quite simple, but it's never painful," he said, and Allison must have looked somewhat puzzled, because he added, "A sparkling is a young Cybertronian.. a child I suppose you would say."

"That sounds very familiar. Humans, and most animals really, have trouble walking when we're first born. We trip and fall over, but over time we learn to do it on our own."

"Well, I can't say many Cybertronians fall over exactly, but the premise sounds about the same, yes." He pondered for a moment. "The more I think about that the less practical that sounds. Are all creatures on Earth born with no sense of equilibrium?"

"Very funny," Allison said sardonically. "Our brains don't have the luxury of being built like computers. We're made of flesh and muscle and other organic things. In fact humans are born with small brains so that we can fit through the birth canal. And then we have a full year of growth before it catches up with..." Allison paused. Wheeljack was leaning extremely close, obviously fascinated with the lecture she was giving on what he probably saw as evolutionary inadequacy, or at the very least illogically confounded. She decided to back up to her original topic.

"I have a more pressing question to ask you. Why did you chose such a, well, a not very inconspicuous car? I'll be honest with you it doesn't really blend in as much as you'd like to think…" she said, letting a small smile slip through. The car was as eccentric as the robot, its bright colors bound to draw attention wherever he went.

"Ah, yes, but if I were to simply walk around, that would earn quite a bit more attention, wouldn't it?" he said, waving his hand in the air to accentuate his words. She supposed he was right, but if his goal had been to blend in, she'd figured he'd pick something more simple and common like a beige sedan. It was apparent Wheeljack had more of a flair for the imaginative.

Eventually the conversation steered more towards the immediate issue at hand. He told her briefly his background, about Cybertron, and that him and the other "Autobots" as he called them, were still at war with a group called the Decepticons, and had been at it for quite a few million years. Autobots were those who had been built for various jobs: clerking, maintenance, governing, under a governing body with varying levels of leadership. A Prime was one such leader who controlled a squadron. Wheeljack described his own Prime, apparently on Earth, as an empathetic pacifist who desired peace.

The Decepticons had been built for anything concerning war, and had ambitions that did not include the ideals of the Autobots and war had broken out. They were lead by someone with very little interest in what he destroyed along the way to his goal of tyrannical domination: Megatron.

Allison was completely gobsmacked to learn that Wheeljack was well over a million years old, and had been in conflict for most of his life. That type of time span was something she couldn't comprehend, and it made her feel just slightly insignificant in the grand scale of things. Her lifespan was merely a blip of time in his life. She couldn't imagine someone like Wheeljack in any type of conflict at all, as despite his size, she had a hard time picturing aggression from him. The fact that all of this had been going on around her planet, so far away, and for far longer than her species had even existed. It was daunting.

Then somehow the war had ended up here, or at least, both factions were still at odds on her own planet. It was a wonder that something hadn't really blown out of proportion, but it was obvious that the government had somehow intervened in clearing things up. Allison wondered how many bizarre disturbances she'd overheard on the news had been at the hands of these massive beings from space.

And what was even more disturbing, was that they could be anywhere, at any time, able to take on the shape of whatever they "scanned". Every time a car had passed her on the street, a plane rumbled overhead, it could have been human or alien and nobody even had a clue. And the prospect that some of them were hostile, according to Wheeljack having very little regard for the native life on the planet, was even more unnerving. And some of them were possibly after her.

Well no, she thought, it isn't me exactly, it's my boss… but the way Wheeljack had described it didn't make it any less of a worry. Wheeljack seemed to think that he had disappeared without saying anything in an effort to protect her with ignorance, but according to this "Optimus Prime", they seemed to believe that his trust in her would drive him to try and contact her, potentially with sensitive information. According to Wheeljack, the entire building where she worked had been monitored for a while, by eyes and ears that were definitely unfriendly.

Wheeljack's purpose here had been simple. He was doing his own monitoring to ensure that one, if he did contact her the Autobots could successfully intervene, and two, brutal hands didn't get to her, or the information she carried before they did. In the mean time apparently, Optimus Prime and the rest of his Autobots were doing their best to track her boss down to hopefully avoid such an unfortunate necessity. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that not even Wheeljack seemed to know what it was they were supposed to be protecting. Annoying to say the least, but she had to wonder if this Optimus Prime knew what he was doing, or just felt it an unimportant detail.

The Autobot before her had apparently paid a price for coming to be by her side, even without her knowing it. He'd had a scuffle with an aggressor en route and many of his "communication" systems had been damaged. As a consequence, he couldn't call out for help or backup, and could not receive any transmissions from Optimus Prime or any other of his friends. This was apparently what Wheeljack had been spending his time doing during the nights: attempting to repair himself to a more functional state. It still made her uneasy, for she could only imagine what type of violence he hid under such an outlandishly friendly personality, and if she ever had the potential to set it off unwillingly.

"Optimus Prime only wishes to keep harm from befalling this planet, but it seems that Megatron has decided he'd prefer to conquer it and squander it's resources. Cybertron was lost many eons ago at the hands of our war, so here we remain. What's left of us I mean." Wheeljack said in the middle of their conversation. His optics were dim, as if he had a particularly nasty memory on his mind. Allison lowered her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I guess I'm sorry you have to worry about something as, well, vulnerable and relatively insignificant as me..." she said, her heart completely overwhelmed with emotions, some of it gratitude, some of it guilt. She honestly couldn't comprehend how a race that had been alive for so unbelievably long, would actually go out of their way to protect some meager little human. Doctor Arkeville had disappeared without a trace, obviously sensing some danger or compromise and had said nothing, even to these so-called Autobots that he'd been intending to help. Perhaps he'd been in a hurry, or had feared it would be traced back to him, or even her. What Allison didn't understand is why they didn't just save themselves the trouble and get rid of her from the equation if they thought she was such a liability.

As she'd been in the middle of her pathetic misery, she hadn't noticed that Wheeljack had silently moved into her immediate field of vision again. She marveled at how quietly something of his size had managed to move without her noticing, but she had been thoroughly distracted.

"Allison you are not insignificant," he said, pointing one finger in her direction and making a move to poke her with it. She flinched a little, and Wheeljack drew his hand back. He was crouched again, meeting her face. "You will have to give us Autobots more credit. We all follow Optimus Prime's cause, and his ideals. You are a living, sentient being. You have feelings, emotions, and you do not deserve to be disregarded as little more than an obstacle or a means to a tyrannical end. That is not the Autobot way. It is our duty to protect life, and as such, protect you and this planet," he continued, his panels blinking softly. Allison shrugged weakly. She supposed she'd just have to take it at face value, since it didn't appear as if she was going to get away from it. "And you might be wondering what happened last night I'm guessing, in that big… rock structure…"

"The parking garage?" Allison corrected, remembering last night only vaguely. She remembered that he had been there, and he'd nearly run her over.

"We were not alone in that.. parking garage," he began, finishing her thought for her.. "I saw how fearful you were, and it wasn't you I was driving towards. There was another Cybertronian there, and it was not an Autobot."

"There was?" Allison asked, her interest piqued. She remembered a brief burst of air as something big had moved past her head, but she'd been in too much of a state to really think back on it at the time. The thought was purely horrifying. "It was behind me wasn't it? A Decepti...um... Decepticon?"

Wheeljack nodded, a quick gesture, but apparent. "That was Lazerbeak, specializing in surveillance and has a knack for listening in on things that it should not, but what is more worrisome is who's command it was under. That is where the danger lies Allison, and if he is truly here stalking around in the shadows, as is his way, than we are in a world of hurt until I am fully functional again," he said, then continued, "which is why I think it is important that you stay here. Soundwave is not someone to underestimate, for he is one of the most ruthless, unpredictable Decepticons out there, and it is a fact he will have no concern for your safety if it means getting at what he wants. We are safe here, and I am far more ingenious than to forget to shield this place from any unwanted scans."

"You can do that?"

"I have my ways," and it almost looked, for a brief second, like he winked at her but she couldn't be sure. It had been so quick. It left her mind as the prospect of spending all 24 hours of her days with Wheeljack seemed a far more pressing concern. She couldn't even begin to imagine spending her entire day in his company. It wasn't that she found him boring, far from it, but it just seemed so unusual. Not to mention it didn't appear as if he had ever expected any human guests, so it wasn't exactly accommodating... at all.

"You mean, as in, stay in here with you? I gotta say, that's going to be kind of hard…"

"I'm not so damaged that going outside is out of the question," he declared, "I'll be able to perceive any danger before it hits us out there, but what is crucial is that we are in a safe place when we are not mobile. If it'll help, I can take you back to take any necessity you may need. It may take some time for me to finish my repairs, and I'm afraid until then we will be stuck here." Wheeljack continued, and while it wasn't an order, his tone indicated it was the final word on the matter. Allison didn't relish the idea of arguing with him at this point and realized the offer to gather her things was about the best she was going to get. She also realized she was very hungry, and hadn't eaten since yesterday.

"And food… " she said, and her stomach responded to her request by growling, louder than she would have liked. It was embarrassing, for Wheeljack heard and responded to it with a tilt of the head.

"You're internal systems appear to be in need of refueling…" he said with a sense of wonder, like it was the most exciting thing he'd seen yet. She was starting to feel more and more like a source of entertainment for him.

"I haven't eaten since yesterday," Allison said thickly, not at all appreciating being a sideshow for an alien robot.

"Fascinating…" Wheeljack said, and the aloofness in which he said that irritated Allison out of her mind. His voice resonated with what sounded like sincere enthusiasm, but there was that expression on his face again that seemed to look right past her. It was as if he was truly fascinated by what was going on around him, while at the same time his mind was too deep in contemplation over some other abstract thought, like the wheels of his attention span were turning on autopilot. Allison didn't really know what was irritating about it, but only knew with conviction that it had to stop. She stood up and his gaze followed her as she took a step towards him.

"Look, Wheeljack," she said gently. "I realize that everything I might do from here on out is going to be amazingly wonderful for you, but let's keep it to ourselves, shall we?" His eyes were sparkling again, and she could only imagine what type of response she was going to get. "When you get like that, everything you say goes right over my head and you lose me. I'm guessing that's not a strange concept for you?"

Wheeljack did something new and completely unexpected, and laughed, or at least, what sounded like a laugh. It was a deep resonating chuckle, his eyes narrowing in a squint of genuine amusement. It was actually quite pleasant.

"I think I can manage that."

* * *

**02/27/2011 - Minor edits**


	8. Lines Crossed

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Author's note: I apologize for the casual pace thus far, but things are going to start picking up soon. **

**And I'm terrible at writing the Decepticons. X3**

* * *

Allison was surprised to find how much time had actually passed amidst their conversations. They'd both agreed that Wheeljack would quickly take her back to her apartment to grab a few meager essentials and something to soothe her hunger, and the following morning she would have more time to pull some things together. She'd taken mostly enough to at least sleep on, and she'd have more time the next morning when Wheeljack wasn't so rushed. She at least took the time to change into fresh, unsoiled clothing, something practical, and allowed herself the luxury of washing her face. Letting the cool water evaporate off her skin, she could almost imagine it would take all her uncertainties and stress away with it.

Wheeljack had been most patient, waiting at the hole he'd created for her to gather her few things, leaving just enough time to scavenge something along the lines of food. Allison had to admit, that after all the talk about Decepticons, she was somewhat eager to return to the relative safety that Wheeljack claimed was Decepticon-proof, plus the draft in her apartment now made it feel too chilled to be livable.

Once they'd returned Wheeljack pretty much left Allison to her own devices, taking time only to investigate the food and items she'd grabbed with earnest. He'd respectfully refrained from proclaiming his fascination to her, but instead had silently observed her organize the few belongings she'd grabbed. After some time had passed, and she was feeling more presentable and less wary of everything around her, she started to feel guilty over how pushy she'd been to him earlier about his mannerisms. Allison had written it off as just a symptom of her being overwhelmed, but the passive silence Wheeljack had been using since then was out of respect for her, and she knew that. She had attempted to stammer a weak apology at one point, but he'd dismissed it as nonsense and told her it wasn't a big deal. Still, she felt slightly hurt for him, and knew that she wanted to make up for it.

The one item that had seemed to intrigue him the most was her mobile phone, which she'd grabbed along with her charging cable, unsure of when she'd get a chance to use it. Wheeljack had actually wanted to examine it further, and had held his hand out for it, but Allison hesitated for a beat long enough for him to read her. After he assured her he wasn't going to break it, she felt even more miserable than before and handed it to him with no further argument.

"So this is your version of a mobile communication device?" He'd asked, turning it over in his hand. He was rubbing his chin with his other hand as if in deep thought. "How does it work?" Allison was surprised at his interest and wondered if he was just humoring her, or if he truly didn't know what the phone did. She assumed that he knew a great deal about, well everything.

"Well," she stood up and walked towards his crouched figure to better explain what he was holding, and she had to stand up on the tips of her feet in order to reach. She pointed at the key pad in his hand. "You dial the specific number for the phone of the person you want to actually talk to.. and then you press this," she motioned to the small button with the image of the green telephone. "And this calls them."

Wheeljack considered this before speaking, poking at it with the hand that had formally been touching his face plate. "Autobots have specific channels that we are able to communicate with each other on. Various private channels, and larger wavelength channels where many of us can speak at once, and they are encrypted against prying Decepticon audios. There are also the very wide frequencies that all Cybertronians can communicate on, regardless of faction. It all relates to programming. I suppose, you could call it, and internal cell phone," he declared. "Except without these funny screens. It seems rather impractical."

"Well, that's how we're able to confirm what we're dialing.. also, it displays the time, and will also tell you who it is when you're receiving a call. Oh, and it has a camera too. Plus the screen is needed for text messaging. It's like an instant message. You type something out on the keyboard and press send, and the recipient gets the message immediately... assuming the network isn't terrible." She grabbed at it in his hand to try and maneuver the top bit of her cell phone so she could slide the screen upwards, to reveal the full keyboard underneath. Her feet finally got tired from standing on her toes and she lost her balance, catching herself against his palm. "Sorry.." she said, feeling awkward as he'd moved his hand to steady her without even shifting his attention.

"Hmm..." was his only comment, and that had pretty much ended their session of show and tell, for Wheeljack had then left her alone to go back to his repairs. For a while she'd tried to entertain herself, looking at all the various bits of machinery on the walls while doing her best to stay out of his way. After a time, trying to find patterns on all the welded bits of sheet metal on the actual wall itself had lost its luster, and she soon found herself bored. She was wishing she'd had the foresight to grab something that would be an easy distraction, like a book, or even her MP3 player, but she kept letting her attentions wander towards Wheeljack who seemed lost in his own concentration. It was a very different piece of his personality that she was seeing for the very first time.

Stooped over that makeshift workbench, Wheeljack was bent over his forearm, and it took her a few moments to realize that he had actually opened it up and was doing something inside it. A spark would burst out every now and then, and Wheeljack would jerk back quickly, emitting an array of angry chattering noises that Allison could only assume was his own form of cursing given their gusto. The real attraction to her however, the thing that kept her occupied, was the intensity in which he seemed so engrossed in. He looked almost frustrated, but the whole vision was just so very male that it was oddly fascinating.

Then all at once there was a significantly large burst of light accompanied by a high-pitched shriek which she wasn't sure came from Wheeljack or somewhere in his arm. He jumped back and Allison was surprised to actually see acrid black smoke billowing from the open compartment on his body. She stood up, mildly horrified and unsure if there was something she should actually do, like run, but Wheeljack seemed to have it somewhat under control. He was waving his arm around madly, and his opposing hand folded and retreated into his arm to reveal what looked like a cannon. For one wild second Allison thought he was going to shoot the offending appendage off, but instead a thick, puffy blue substance covered his endangered arm, allowing the smoke to thin. She wasn't sure if knowing that he had his own built-in fire retardant should be a relief or a source of worry.

"Slag," he mumbled darkly, his panels burning a hot, angry red as his hand reemerged and settled back into place. "That was a stinger..." he'd added to nobody in particular, the panels resuming their cool blue, alarm very suddenly diminished. He brought his arm up to his eyes and began to examine what was beneath the large open panel, when he glanced up and noticed Allison was staring.

"Oh-erm-I'm sorry," she stammered, feeling like a child caught doing something they shouldn't have. "I didn't know-"

Wheeljack chuckled softly, and lowered the open panel back into place.

"Nothing to hide here Allison, I was merely attempting to reconnect fried wiring to my frequency initiator, nothing inappropriate actually..."

"It just looked so private, is all," she said, sitting back down. "I was bored, and well, you're the only thing interesting in the room..." she admitted, blushing a little at her admissions. In other circumstances that would be an awkward thing to say to anyone, but any social skills she'd learned in the past seemed completely irrelevant in Wheeljack's company.

"Feel free to ask me whatever you wish," he said, and Allison thought she saw that same, subtle wink that was a little more pronounced this time around. The air smelled faintly of burning fibers and it prickled the inside of her nose. It was a strange smell, sort of sweet, but caustic at the same time.

"What was that?" she asked, and he looked her blankly.

"What was what?"

"That," she repeated with a little more emphasis. "You're arm was on fire!"

"Oh that," he said off-handedly. "I merely nudged the wrong wire and it hit a damaged Energon node which reacted... Happens all the time," he finished casually. Without thinking about the real implications of being in constant danger of explosive appendages, Allison couldn't help but ask,

"Does it hurt?" She frowned a little. She managed to keep forgetting that he was "damaged", and it wasn't hard to compare that to any normal organic injury. She wondered if he felt pain. Wheeljack returned her glance and straightened his shoulders, trying to underplay his response.

"Yes," he said. There was a brief pause where he just watched her with a level gaze. "A lot actually," he added, his voice more muted. He flexed the hand on his damaged arm a few times. It jerked with a loud clack, and he clamped down on it with his other hand. Feeling slightly pathetic for him Allison averted her eyes. He certainly looked to be in pain, and she wondered if she was only noticing it now that he'd revealed it to her. "Only when I'm attempting to fix it. If I were to wait long enough, my internal systems would repair the damage, but I'm afraid that would take too long..." he said finally after a few more moments of silence.

"Have you been hurt a lot of times?" Allison asked delicately, ringing the front of her shirt in her hands. Wheeljack watched her carefully for a few more moments, and she thought he may have nodded but it was such a brief twitch of his head that she couldn't tell if it was a response or trick of the light. Allison didn't even know what type of response she was looking for, or what Wheeljack's boundaries were. His only reply was a heavy cycle of air through his vents.

"I'm detecting that your energy levels are low. I think it's time for recharge," he said, and it was painfully obvious he was avoiding the question entirely. Allison did something she knew she was going to regret. She pressed the issue, perhaps wanting to actually test the invisible boundaries. Or maybe she just wanted to see how he'd react.

"You're dodging my question," Allison countered, feeling slightly flushed. Stubbornness in a robot was a new trait. Instead of answering her directly he bent back over his work table, choosing cool neglect over continuing the conversation. Allison found this mildly insulting. "I'm talking to you..."

Wheeljack growled, or what she thought was a growl, seeming to emit from deep within his chest as a warning that she had actually found one of those taboo lines and was about to cross it. Flinching, Allison mentally reeled back and instantly regretted harassing him, over what was clearly a subject that he did not wish to discuss with her. They hadn't even been acquainted for 24 hours, practically still strangers, and it now seemed completely inappropriate to even try to change the subject. It was dangerous that he had managed to be so disarming to disillusion her into thinking that she could get away with anything.

Ashamed and defeated, Allison no longer found the desire to even watch Wheeljack continue his work. She had created a temporary nest of the bedding she had acquired from her apartment, and fleeing to that relative safety was now very tempting. It had seemed like a good spot to rest at the far corner away from his worktable. Allison found comfort in having the two corners against her, but they offered no assurance to her bitter mood. She was half between fear and anger. He'd made a mildly aggressive gesture towards her, but part of her knew she'd deserved it. She couldn't assume that she had the right to demand everything she wanted, for she was in his care after all, and her safety depended on him wanting to help her, and well, not being pissed off at her.

Finding herself being berated like a 10 year old child left a sour taste in her mouth, and she hugged herself tightly trying to will the thoughts away to allow herself to rest. On the opposite side of her emotions she felt slightly foolish. Maybe his size did it to her, intimidated her, but maybe it was the obvious age gap between them. To him, she was nothing more than, well, a child, and if she behaved as one, then he would likely treat her as one.

Yet, he'd treated her no different than anyone else her age would have earlier, it was only when she'd pressed past injuries that he'd gotten defensive. Perhaps Wheeljack had more pride than she thought, and he was merely trying to hide something by avoiding the question entirely. Her insistence had challenged him, and that was not a line she was to cross.

Or perhaps he was ashamed; maybe even embarrassed.

It didn't really matter anymore, for the damage had already been done. Allison instead tried to will herself to sleep and forget about the whole thing, hoping that in the morning it would all wash away like bad memories should. But sleep didn't come to her easily. She drifted in and out of consciousness, awakening to the sounds of Wheeljack moving around behind her. Every now and then a burst of a spark or two would jerk her into wakefulness and into a few scant seconds of high-alert before she was pulled back under.

Eventually everything was still, the sounds of Wheeljack's movements suddenly absent and the room was blissfully quiet. Allison didn't dare turn to see what he was doing, the lingering remnants of her previous scolding still fresh in her mind. She thought, that maybe the chances of forgiveness were greater if she remained unnoticed, so drawing attention to herself seemed like a bad idea. Instead, she let sleep will her back down into the darkness. She dreamt uncomfortably, of darkness and squirming shadows that seemed to loom above her in the night. Her body was immobile, even as she tried to force herself awake, but the pathetic flails of her body got her nowhere. She tried to move away from the darkness but it was always there, following her like her own shadow, before all at once the shadows converged on her like an oncoming collision.

It felt like barely a minute had passed when Allison jerked awake, her body numb with lingering emotions, her heart pounding against the inside of her chest. She was flushed, her forehead moist from her own perspiration during her unsettled sleep. For a brief second she forgot where she was, staring at one giant sheet of grey, but the feeling of a second very large presence in the room reminded her almost immediately. She rolled over, only to see two very large orbs of blue hovering a few feet above her head.

Barely coherent, Allison struggled to cover herself, her shrill squeaking noise sounding odd even to her. Wheeljack, as she was beginning to learn, had no real concept of personal space. Maybe it was their size difference, or maybe his obvious lack of sense about regular human mannerisms, but either way he was rather close.

Clearly having forgotten the indiscretions of the night before, Wheeljack looked down at her with an expression that was a mixture of pure exhilaration and worry for something, like the wheels were definitely turning at what she imagined was a blinding rate of speed. As she struggled to find a comfortable position under his looming gaze, she wondered with a brief tendril of annoyance if he'd been hovering over her all night. Then, as her head cleared enough to remember the dream that had forced her to wake, it occurred to her that perhaps Wheeljack was simply reacting to her inadvertent signals of distress. She'd certainly woken up in more of a tangle than she'd remembered falling asleep in.

"I was dreaming," she explained, feeling the need to keep her voice low in his immediate proximity. His expression changed all at once and he looked expectant, almost like he'd hoped her to continue. His eyes were glittering like a kid on Christmas morning. "-A bad dream," she offered, not wanting to disappoint him after realizing this was likely another giant thrill to the curious robot. It was becoming plainly obvious that he, despite all his genuine mannerisms saying otherwise, had not until now had an abundance of one-on-one human contact aside from her. Allison finally managed to sit up, not feeling so sensitive under his watchful gaze anymore, and thankfully he had enough decency to draw back.

"You'll have to tell me of these dreams," he said wistfully, clearly holding something back but not saying it. "It isn't often that I dream..." he added off-handedly, and Allison found that a very perplexing revelation. How on earth was it possible that he dreamed? She didn't have time to wonder any further, for Wheeljack abruptly changed the subject. "I was detecting high levels of stress from you. I take it you were not recharging well?" he questioned, waiting for a response from her that was delayed as she thought back to what she'd actually been dreaming of. It was no longer perfectly clear; the only thing she could remember had been a large, somewhat malevolent presence that she didn't exactly want to admit to Wheeljack that it may or may not represented him. It was hard to tell, and equally hard to discern if he would be offended. The day before had been thoroughly overwhelming.

"It's hard to remember dreams once they're over..." Allison said quickly, hoping to change the subject at hand. Wheeljack was apparently satisfied enough for he quickly derailed off into yet another subject, one which did much to brighten her mood.

"It has been approximately six megacycles since you've fallen into recharge," he stated, clearly not realizing that Allison had no idea what that meant.

"Wheeljack, in clear, human English please, can you repeat that? And you can call it what it is, sleeping."

He seemed to think about it for a moment, processing the information before he replied.

"Sleeping, yes. It's 6:30 in the morning. Would now be a good time to return home?" he said. Despite Allison's annoyance at being awake so early, the idea in itself seemed to be a good one, and it was only then that she realized there was no bathroom. Not wanting to explain that particular need to him Allison stood and nodded, eager for the chance to be clean.

* * *

Starscream was fuming, no, he was positively beside himself with internal fury, so much so that it shook him to the very deepest of his spark. He stood before his glorious leader with nothing but utter contempt for Megatron's smug visage as he'd denied Starscream's justified request. Who was he to deny the supreme air commander a chance at destruction and a chance at glory, but instead send a fool to do a real Decepticon's work?

As soon as he'd heard that such a stoic and incompetent glitch as Soundwave had been sent in for infiltration Starscream had been offended. He, the greatest and most deserving of all the ranks, and not to mention the second in command, had been passed over in favour of assured failure.

"Starscream… I am of the opinion that you would do well to acquire a small amount of… subtlety," Megatron said delicately, his words laced with contempt. His crimson eyes glimmered like drops of blood reflecting the light. "I prefer that this remains discreet. The Autobots are most surely stewing in their own panic attempting to recover their information," he smirked. Starscream snarled, but did his utmost best to remain passive on the exterior, which was not one of his greatest talents.

"But Lord Megatron- it-" he started, his voice breaking with the rage that gripped his spark. "Forget subtlety we should BURN the city to the ground, flush out that pathetic wreck of a human from his hole and be done with it!" he seethed, wanting to crush something in his fists.

"The Autobots have scouts in the area, it would do no good until we are certain we have the correct information. Once we've retained that-" Megatron allowed a subtle smile to grace his oral components, and his voice lowered to a silky purr, "Then we will lay waste to this entire planet, strip what we need, and create a new Cybertron for the Decepticon age."

Starscream's interest perked, but it did nothing to cool his rage. He'd been shut up in the Nemesis for far too long, and he needed to release his frustrations. On anything. Megatron was losing his focus, and their recent defeats was a painful reminder that they had lost their true purpose; The freedom of their entire faction, their glorious race. It made Starscream squirm with utter contempt, and... frustration. He should be in command, not a forgotten relic such as Megatron, squandering their dwindling resources on petty fights for the sake of healing a wounded ego. The Decepticons deserved more, much more.

"That pathetic Autobot scientist is of no real concern, even for a Decepticon as incapable as Soundwave," Starscream spat, feeling a rush of hatred for the Autobot engineer that had always stirred within his Spark. Ever since the Autobot had betrayed him, he had sworn that he would find ways to make him suffer. Killing other Autobots was simply a bonus.

Starscream had made him suffer. Once. A tendril of satisfaction crept up his spinal strut as he remembered the paralyzing horror of the Autobot who had been in his grasp, that one, victorious moment of vengeance. He had ignored the pleas for mercy, to stop, as he'd let the scalpel continue its work. The instrument of pain had taken hold of him, and he had snapped, losing himself in the perverse fascination of the flowing Energon as it streamed down the Autobot's face...

The Decepticon seeker was pushed out of his reverie when Megatron finally spoke from the raised dias of his command center. His voice rumbled in a threatening growl, his own temper pushed to its limit.

"Soundwave is more suited for the matters of the discreet, unlike you," Megatron eyed him over, his eyes narrowed to mere slits. "You underestimate that Autobot, and every time you do, you end up in pieces."

Megatron had a point, it was true. That Autobot wreck had gotten lucky more times then he could count, and he had the scars to prove it. Starscream had never been able to catch the engineer off-guard again, not since those fleeting moments that now felt like millenia ago. The Autobot had learned to watch his back.

"Until we know where that witless scientist is, Soundwave will remain in position. He already reports that the Autobot is more than capable of sidestepping death, and there may be more of them in the area. After all, in due time the information may come to us instead." Megatron lazily ran a hand along the black fusion canon, an extension of his arm that embodied the terrifying power he was capable of. It reflected the burning glow from the computer console behind the Decepticon leader, and on more than one occasion that same cannon had been the driving force of long since healed wounds and dents on Starscream's armor. The seeker felt himself bristle at the memories.

Megatron eyed Starscream with intent, a warning that wasn't hard to miss. "And if the man is fool enough to let that information go we are already in place, and Wheeljack will be of no concern. If he is under the impression that a witless female-" Megatron spat, disgusted. "-Is a sufficient courier then when the time is right we will show him the error of his ways. We will show all of them." Megatron finished, turning his attention to the vast computer before him, Cybertronian symbols lining the screen in patterns of shimmering hieroglyphics.

Turning his back to Starscream, it was clear his disinterest in his presence signalled the final word on the matter. With a frustrated cycle of air Starscream turned on his heels and left, his mind already scheming for his own cause, as it was apt to do on most occasions where Starscream's attentions were not entertained.

Opening a private channel, Starscream did his best to even his voice to something as close to calm as he could possibly go.

_"Soundwave,"_ he barked, not expecting any sort of response, and was not surprised when his demand was followed by subdued silence. It was no matter, Soundwave heard him, but had preferred not to answer. That was simply his way. "The plans have changed," Starscream continued, taking his silence as an invitation. He smiled to himself at his own brilliance, already eager to exact damage on the Autobot who had caused him so much pain.

But he had to be cautious. As much as he wanted to believe that Soundwave was nothing short of an epic failure, he knew he was not an idiot. The communications officer was not easily manipulated. Starscream's contempt for him stretched far beyond petty rivalries, and he knew that Soundwave was motivated by far more than mere loyalty and blind ambition. Starscream had always suspected ulterior motives, his bland, silent exterior only furthering his suspicions that underneath the Decepticon was nurturing his own plans for self-preservation. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage.

_"Our dearest Lord is under the impression that your actions are... insufficient,"_ he emphasized the word, taking care to lace it with as much mockery as he could. Starscream could almost feel the ripple of offense through his communication sensors. Such a fool. Yet, in Starscream's, cruel, ironic way, he pounced on it like a cat to a wounded mouse. _"Which is why you are to tell me your coordinates immediately. It appears that you are in need of supervision."_

_"Negative,"_ the fury was clear, even through Soundwave's uninspired drawl. Starscream would never take no for an answer.

_"I know you are not a fool, which is why, I have a small proposition for you Soundwave. One which I think will be most beneficial for both of us. Allow me the knowledge of your wherabouts, and I guarantee you we will be victorious."_ Starscream smirked, so very proud of his own cunning and his ability to easily manipulate the blind. Outwardly, Soundwave was perfectly obedient and would carry out an order with due diligence. Internally he was ruthless, cunning, extremely intelligent, and Starscream had seen on more than a few occasions, if let off the chains an emotionless killer if something stood in his way. This was to be an occasion where Starscream would most enjoy seeing the communications officer in action, that is of course, until he finished him off himself.

And what perfect way to do it than with such a worthy prize. Clearly if this information was of such importance to Megatron, then surely it could be used against him. That was Starscream's motivation. He would use Soundwave as merely a tool, let him get his hands dirty with the smaller subtleties. Once the prize was obtained Starscream would obliterate them all: Megatron, Soundwave, that accursed Autobot engineer... and if the human survived long enough he could have a little more fun. It would be the crowning achievement of the Air Commander's glorious career, and it was all his to marvel in. The destruction of the entire city would soon follow. He would dance in a shower of Autobot and Megatron's blood combined, and it would delight him to his very spark. Then he would fulfill the true destiny of the Decepticon faction and lead them to glory.

But first, he had to convince Soundwave to let him in on his little game of cat and mouse.

_"Think about it. Together we will be unstoppable, and Megatron will give us the observance we deserve,"_ Starscream continued, his voice smoothed over to a low purr. _"Allow me to help you and we will be victorious!"_ Starscream lazily flexed his fingers as he waited for Soundwave's response, thinking to himself that playing with a feeble human life or two would only be an added bonus. Soundwave would get to curb his blood lust, but not until Starscream had his own fill.

Soundwave's sudden assent pleased Starscream, and as a string of coordinates entered his conscious processors he smiled to himself. There was going to be destruction. Starscream would see to that himself.

* * *

**02/27/2011 - Minor additions to better match the continuity of the story.**

**I also changed the interaction between Allison and Wheeljack slightly. I tried to make her less demanding.  
**


	9. Black Coffee

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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Wheeljack had been more subdued that morning than Allison had come to expect so far, and his silence had lingered long after he'd left her at the front door to her apartment. It was truly hard to imagine him holding a grudge, but Allison couldn't help but fear he was still upset with her over her questioning the night before. That however was all washed away as soon as she'd entered her apartment from the front door, only to find the wall a great deal more hole-less than it had been yesterday.

She'd stood in her doorway for quite a while, exactly how long she didn't know, turning over in her head all the possible explanations for it now being repaired, each one more ludicrous then the next. It was clearly obvious that with the amount of care and perfection in which it had been put together, that type of craftsmanship was not possible by a human of any standards in what had likely been only a few hours.

Setting that aside, and remembering to thank Wheeljack later (even though he likely wouldn't admit he'd done it) she'd taken her shower and changed into a fresh set of clothes, stopping only to grab a few more things before leaving. She wasn't quite motivated enough to cook or grab anything to eat. Her fridge was bare, and there wasn't much to choose from anyway. Thankfully Wheeljack was at least familiar with the concept of take-out, and had asked if there was anywhere in particular she preferred. She was hungry, but she didn't think her stomach would be able to bear anything heavy after everything she'd been through so far. She'd suggested he just take her to a cafe around the corner. So they continued in silence.

It had felt awkward getting out of the car and expecting him to wait out in the rain, but he didn't complain. Assuring her he would be perfectly fine outside on his own, he swayed her guilt by stating he would be of much better use monitoring the surroundings outside.

Allison rubbed her fingers absently along the edge of the saucer beneath her coffee. The soft, ambient music playing from a small stereo behind the counter was soothing, and the patter of rain outside helped her to relax. Sort of. It was hard to relax when there was so much on her mind. First and foremost was the white car that sat sullenly across the street as the rain splashed across its frame. Wheeljack at that point was still being decidedly mute, but she had to wonder that if he'd truly been riled up by what she'd asked, would he have gone through the trouble of fixing her wall (granted, he'd been the one to break it in the first place.)? It was something to think about, but she was afraid to press the issue further, and left it at the assumption that his continued efforts to help her couldn't have meant he'd been exceptionally frazzled.

She glanced out the window, fingering the yellow slip of paper that had been haphazardly taped to her door, the only evidence that her apartment had actually been disturbed in her absence. She'd grabbed it in a hurry, but hadn't until that moment been able to really look at what it was. Partially, she'd intentionally been ignoring it, fearing it was an insurance claim or eviction notice from management after the damage Wheeljack had done. Finally looking at it however, she realized it was a note from the postal service. It was peculiar thing to get, seeing as she wasn't expecting any mail, but the words "signature identity authorization" printed boldly across the top said otherwise. It was a notification for a certified letter, but it didn't offer any further details as to who it was from or where it had come from. She'd have to ask Wheeljack if he'd take her to the post office later.

The Opex Sun had always been her favorite coffee shop, at least, the one within walking distance from home. It was quiet, the lights were dim and intimate, and the employees were friendly enough. Normally she would have spent time people watching, coming here when she was stressed, or sometimes for her lunch break if she'd had extra time, and she was typically alone. Today however was different. She wasn't just stressed, she was damn near the breaking point, but trying to tackle it with calm reserve. Everything seemed to have been sufficiently explained, but it was still hard to take at face value and just accept it, at least for now. Seeing the white car sitting silently, seeming to be nothing out of the ordinary was still reminder enough that she wouldn't just wake up from this at any moment.

Her chin resting in her hand, she stared at the rain drops running down the glass. She stared past the rain, and the droplets blurred as her vision shifted to focus further onto the street. The sharp aroma of cinnamon bit her senses and she frowned. Wheeljack was sitting perfectly still amongst the rain and bustling street, and there wasn't even a trace that would hint at what was really beneath that hood. Allison knew better however, and she felt a pang of guilt for the Autobot waiting outside. She wondered if he was cold, or bored. She wished she could bring him inside for a drink, but that would likely cause a mild stir of panic. But then again what would an Autobot drink? Oil? No, it seemed absurd to assume he ran on oil. Besides, they didn't have a cup big enough to quench the size of thirst he likely had.

Thinking about that was almost silly, and brought a faint smile to her lips. She half imagined them sitting down with coffee and talking, but what did they truly have in common to really speak of with some shred of normalcy? They were universes apart, she and him. She was just a simple human female bound to her desk and her career. He was a gigantic shape-shifting robot from space with any number of technological advancements at his disposal.

Actually, she supposed they'd have a lot to talk about. But it wasn't really something you could take home with you... Or discuss with co-workers.

Allison sighed, looking around at the patrons who occupied the cafe, all of them chatting and seemingly oblivious to the robotic war that was going on around them at that very moment. It was with a sense of irony that having Wheeljack around only highlighted how alone she had been prior to his arrival. This wasn't like the movies. There wasn't a heroic male for her to have tag along with her, to banter with while dodging laser beams and running from cunning yet surprisingly goofy secret service agents. There was only her, and him. And she couldn't talk to anyone about it.

Finished with her coffee Allison pushed her chair back a little and stood, careful to leave a few spare dollar bills on the table. The muffled lounge music from inside followed her out the door as she crossed the pavement towards Wheeljack, who wasted no time in opening the door even before she got up to him. Slightly panicked, she looked around for any stray passerby who had seen the door open of its own volition, but it didn't appear as if anyone had been paying attention.

Slumping inside, her body barely hit the seat before the door shut next to her, the rain now a muffled patter on the roof and windows.

"How was it?" his question came abruptly out of nowhere as he smoothly slid back out onto the road, weaving through the light traffic with ease. Allison was startled at the seemingly casual question, enough to need to be certain what part of the day Wheeljack was actually asking about. He idled at a traffic light, engine a low rumbling purr that sounded only vaguely unlike a natural car engine.

"Er- how was what?" she asked quietly, realizing the rain in her hair and on her clothes was drying very quickly due to Wheeljack's natural internal warmth. It was weird driving through traffic without actually having any direct control of the car she was sitting in, so she had to compensate by making it appear as if she was actually driving the car. Allison had at least gotten comfortable enough to put her hands on the steering wheel without gripping, and let it slide underneath her hands gracefully.

"The coffee, " he said cheerfully, and she was surprised to hear him call something by name for once, rather than "dark caffeinated beverage" which was the style in which he called most things that were new to him. "I was learning all sorts of wondrous things about this coffee beverage while you were inside. Did you know Allison that its aromatic qualities are quite volatile, consisting of chemical components such as organic acids, aldehydes, ketones, esters, amines and mercaptans. Fascinating, considering aldehyde is also the basic chemical group that makes a variety of different alcohols..." and Wheeljack continued to ramble on for a few more minutes about alcohol and its comparisons to something he called "Energon" (she'd remember to ask him later), as they coasted into a consistent speed. Allison could only listen in a partially enthralled stupor, more curious as to how the hell he'd managed to gather so much information while sitting on the street as a car. That made her curious.

"What do you do?" she asked, finally finding a spot of minimal silence in between Wheeljack's observations to actually get a word in. The question was more of a blanket over a generous number of things she was still curious about. She figured at least, that since Wheeljack seemed to be in a talkative mood, his previous upset obviously wiped from his memory, that now was as good a time as any to probe some more information out of him.

"Hmm?" he responded, almost lazily, clearly distracted as a woman crossed in front of them clinging to a rediculous amount of leashes, the ends of which tied to a variety of barking, squirming puppies. They were no bigger than Allison's head, and one of them stopped in front of Wheeljack's front bumper and stared, bouncing around happily. The woman dragged the puppy back into order and they all bounced away, but the puppy still seemed to be thoroughly interested in Wheeljack. Allison could almost feel him him struggling to hold back his excitement. The strangest vision crossed her mind, that if Wheeljack had a tail at that very moment, it would be wagging ferociously.

"Wheeljack," she said firmly. "Puppies get walked because their developing muscles need exercise. It's healthy," she explained, and tried to steer the conversation back into her intended direction. "Were you bored?" The small puppies long forgotten, Wheeljack took a minute to consider his response as he drove forward.

"Not in the least," he finally said, and Allison knew that if he was that enthralled with a bunch of puppies then the question was literally obsolete. "Bored? How could I be bored when there are so many subjects of interest all around me? You live in a fascinating world Allison. Why just now that woman being led by all those tiny little organic creatures. They looked quite excited, although I think that little one wanted to eat me!" He exclaimed.

"I don't think he'd get very far Wheeljack. Those tiny little teeth wouldn't be able to chew through your bumper," she remarked, then tried once again to head the conversation back in order. "What do you do when you sit there like that? Like when you were waiting for me?" she asked.

"I can do whatever I like. Tapping into your world wide web is embarrassingly easy you know. Aside from monitoring our surroundings I was busy learning all sorts of interesting facts about that 'wine of the bean' beverage humans seem to find so addicting..." so that explained his bizarre, random knowledge about coffee, and Allison had to wonder what other types of secrets he could tap onto from the Internet. She knew a lot of the places in the area had locked wireless available for paying customers, but it wasn't too much of a stretch to assume that a simple WEP encryption key wasn't going to be able to keep Wheeljack at bay. "Besides, I am able to do my better thinking when I am in my secondary form. Most especially if something dangerous is occurring around me," he said, and Allison noticed that he seemed to be stopping near a park. Another place that would ultimately lead to more distractions.

"Really?" she inquired, finding this new detail interesting. "Ah, if I can ask, what sorts of things do you think about?" she ventured, assuming that anything that would occupy his more pressing concerns at any given time was likely much too overwhelming for her to even grasp, but she wanted to know more about him.

"Mostly I watch. I'm a researcher, not just an engineer. The first and most important job of any researcher is to observe. This is a completely different planet to Cybertron. Cybertron has life, but everything is made of different materials, different elements. So our entire life has a different structure, a different network of behavioural patterns. That is, after all, why I've adopted this disguise. What better way to observe these surroundings, then by becoming a part of it? This is a unique world where the organic life has harnessed the natural materials of this world and used it to construct objects which I can naturally integrate myself with. A rare and fascinating occurrence." he explained.

Allison watched people mill about in the park near them, thinking everything through. Another vehicle pulled up next to them to Allison's left, a large economy size van, and the side door slid open to let the children inside jump out. One of them bumped into Wheeljack as she hurried past, turning for only a brief second to acknowledge the robot she had no idea she'd just touched.

Allison thought back to when she was that age, maybe 8 or 10, and wondered if she'd been given the chance just to even be near something so extraordinary, such as a being from another planet, if she'd have jumped at the chance, or be as reluctantly accepting about it as she was now.

"Really? I thought with the size of the universe and all..."

"Oh no. Earth is quite different. There are more beautiful planets out there, and more extravagant ones. But by and of itself Earth is quite unique."

"What do you do with your research? I mean, while I don't necessarily care, down here people would likely be afraid of the ease at which you can just, well, listen in I guess." Allison said, realizing just now that it was likely something the government wouldn't be too keen on. But, did they even notice? Would they notice? Or was Wheeljack just that good at staying beneath the radar.. But then again the government obviously had some sort of notion that they'd existed, because she doubted that they would have been able to keep things undercover as easily had they not already known about the alien presence. It was all so baffling.

"Really?" his inquiry was accompanied by a tone that was actually quite innocent.

"Yeah, it's a big thing down here..." she stated, and at his lack of further question she assumed that he already had some sort of idea at the atrocities that humans had the annoying habit of bringing on each other, without the aid of hostile alien robots. They left it at that.

"Well, I just store it all," Wheeljack finally said after a few minutes. "And later I go through it all, and see how I can relate it to back home, or at least something that can be of use to us."

"You mean like combine your technology and ours?" Allison ventured, wondering if she was straying too far into the technical than she really cared to go. But it was too late, for Wheeljack had already started to babble excitedly.

"To an extent. Things are generally pretty useful, until they explode, which the unfortunately have been doing quite frequently..." he said with an eerie amount of off-handedness that made Allison think hard about her personal safety. "Earth technology is filled with so many bugs and errors that everything either crashes, or explodes when I try to tinker with it." he added quickly, but the casual tone in which he discussed explosions gave her errant thoughts about it possibly not being quite as safe as he'd led her to believe.

"That sounds rather freakishly dangerous." she added hesitantly, thinking back to last night where she remembered seeing his arm on fire.

"Oh don't worry. I'll make sure to give you fair warning before anything has the potential to disintegrate extravagantly." he added, sensing her tension.

How thoughtful, she thought, and was about to think harder on all the potential fire hazards that posed a physical risk to her when Wheeljack continued to speak.

"Having said that, I find that the danger involved thrills me to my very spark.. There's nothing like working with something that has the potential to blow up in your face at any given second. It's such a rush. Some would disagree but it's those types of unpredictable variables that I find makes things more exciting." he said, as if he was talking about a mere science project of slightly smaller scale. The prospect was quite frightening, and after imagining all sorts of shrapnel flying around Wheeljack's workplace, it suddenly became apparent that the face mask was probably quite useful. Or a bandage...

Allison had little time to think it through further when she felt Wheeljack suddenly tense violently. Fearing the worst, Allison looked around in a mild panic, despite knowing that whatever would pose a danger to Wheeljack would be something she likely would not be able to see right away.

Then it happened, a low, roaring noise from somewhere above. A second later a jet shot across the sky above them, appearing through Wheeljack's windshield and disappearing over the trees and beyond. It wasn't unusual to see the occasional military aircraft fly over. After all, there was an airbase just a few hours outside of the city, so Allison made no immediate connection to danger, but Wheeljack had clearly sensed something unpleasant. A few moments later she felt the air inside him relax just as the final remnants of the engine's droning died away.

"I'm guessing there are some memories that you aren't particularly fond of?" she ventured finally, after a few minutes of silence stretched between them, the occasional sounds of children playing now sounding very foreign to her ears.

"No, not particularly," he said, and it was the most sullen she'd ever heard him since they'd met. Allison couldn't begin to imagine what repressive horrors he was likely holding in only to recall at that moment, and this was likely that dormant piece of him he hadn't shown until now. She thought for a moment about all the things Wheeljack hadn't told her, that had either seemed too personal or he hadn't offered to share. All this time she had taken his overwhelmingly eccentric personality for the standard methods to his madness, like that was all there was to Wheeljack.

Clearly he had some degree of pride, as she'd learned the night before, and even a small degree of sensitivity. But Wheeljack was over a few million years old. He'd seen war destroy his way of life and essentially cast him and his people out from their homes. She couldn't help but wonder what part of his personality was kept tightly contained underneath all the enthusiasm he used to mask it. Was there even the possibility that what she was seeing wasn't even the real him, his barest, deepest instinctual habits tucked away deeper only to be unleashed when the situation made it necessary? He'd already done enough to convince her that he had no interest in hurting her, but part of her deeper fears reminded her that on any level, there was always the risk of those old habits being jarred back into the forefront. Like a rehabilitated fighting dog turning suddenly, and violently on your own child.

"It's just an old habit," Wheeljack said after a moment, rather casually. "When a jet flies overhead, you usually start shooting."

"No friendly jets on Cybertron?" It seemed weird to have "friendly" and "jet" in the same sentence, but given that she was talking to a friendly car in context it didn't seem like too much of a stretch.

"Flight was a talent of the Decepticons. Like Starscream, for example."

"Starscream?" She was growing used to the bizarre, apparently "literal" translations of their names. This one however had a certain haunt to it that certainly didn't sound friendly.

"An unpopular Decepticon, who generally favors, the smaller, sleeker military aircraft, with an ego bigger than his boosters. You don't want to cross him. He is Megatron's second hand and air commander, although if you were to ask him he would likely tell you otherwise. That glitch has always had eyes for Megatron's seat of power," Wheeljack said, with a lacing of bitter reproach. "I don't think Megatron actually takes his personality very seriously, but he's good. Very good. If he weren't a loud mouthed braggart who's sole interest was himself, he might actually be formidable."

"I take it you've dealt with him before?" Allison said, trying to picture what someone like Wheeljack would look like as a jet. She felt the air still inside her for a moment, perhaps a pause in Wheeljack's thoughts, like he was trying to work out the best way too approach the subject with her. Allison wondered for a moment if she would get the full truth.

"Our paths have crossed once or twice. Usually not for very long. You know, he used to be a scientist too." He finally settled, but his words were clipped, almost like he was taking great care not to stumble. After last night, Allison didn't want to point this out to him.

"Really?"

"Oh yes. A good one. That was before he grew bored with the lifestyle. Starscream used to be good, back when he first broke out into the field. But then he started getting lazy, taking a lot of shortcuts. A lot of dangerous experiments."

"Says the person who thinks explosions are exciting." Allison added sarcastically with a little smile. Thankfully Wheeljack responded with a light chuckle, the ripple of amusement running through his frame as his deep voice resonated with laughter.

"In my defense I'd like to say I like to blow small things up. Starscream liked to try and blow big things up. Like me for example," he countered. Wheeljack paused, lingering for a moment and she felt the air still again. It was almost like Wheeljack was holding his breath. "That Decepticon couldn't hit me if his radar tracker was fitted with a microscopic zoom," Wheeljack finally said, but she sensed hesitation in his words..

"That's pretty bad."

"Awful. Starscream is sloppy, letting his ego do wonders for his accuracy, but-" Wheeljack paused for a moment for effect, his tone indicating that what he was about to say wasn't particularly positive. "-If Starscream truly wanted to kill you he would have no trouble doing so, if he were to only focus. Once he targets you for the hunt it will not end until the kill is made. And he will not deprive himself of savoring it either..." Wheeljack's tone and the way he described it was, to say the least, shocking; the implications underneath his words hinting at nothing short of a very slow, agonizing death for the sake of this Starscream's amusement. Allison was beginning to picture these Decepticons as a really friendly lot.

"Sounds like quite a personality he has."

"More like five personalities, all squabbling for dominance. And each of them is highly annoying." Wheeljack said, pausing as Allison started to claw at the door. "Is something wrong?"

"I just need some fresh air," she breathed, the pulsing heat inside Wheeljack's cabin suddenly oppressive. She wasn't entirely sure why that particular conversation had left such a lingering stench over her thoughts, but it was something that not even Wheeljack's uncanny lack of focus could bring amusement to. Thankfully he didn't argue with her as she opened the door and got out, breathing in the cool air like a drink. It felt much better. Looking around her, she circled around to Wheeljack's hood, and without even thinking sat down. Instantly she threw herself forward, face hot with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry- er- force of habit I guess, I didn't mean to-" and she was stopped short when her pocket started ringing. Completely startled, Allison fumbled in her coat for her cell phone, which was buzzing noisily at her. The caller ID was indiscernible, and thinking it likely a marketing call her intentions were to answer it in a huff-

"Look, whatever you're selling I'm not interested-" she began, but the speaker immediately cut her off.

"Oh I assure you that whatever I have is quite special," replied, none other than the voice of Wheeljack, straight through her phone. She gaped at him stupidly, still holding the phone to her ear. "Allison, it appears as if your cellular phone is just as easy to tap into I'm afraid." There was no visual indication that he was actually talking, in fact, his physical body remained quite still, it was almost like he was talking to her from within. She wondered if it was through one of those "frequencies" he'd told her about before.

"You can do that?" she spoke into the receiver, relieved that to any passer-by it would only look like a girl on a regular phone call.

"Apparently I can..." he said, trailing off. "It was purely a guess, but once I was able to identify the specific frequency it was absurdly easy to break. At least now I should be able to contact you regardless of the circumstances."

Oh no.

"Oh... boy, that sounds really great," she said, trying very hard to not make it sound like she was disappointed.

"In fact, just so you know it's me..." There was a brief pause. "Look at the screen." Allison did so, and was overwhelmed to see what looked to be a photograph of Wheeljack's face. "There! Now if the phone rings, you know who it is."

"That's... very thorough." Allison said. "But if someone were to pick up my phone and see your somewhat unusual face, they might wonder..."

"You're right Allison. Maybe something a little less conspicuous."

There was a brief pause, and the picture of Wheeljack fragmented, the pixels shifting and moving around. A moment later it was replaced by the Autobot symbol he wore on his frame; The odd face she had admired the night in the parking lot.

"Much better," she said, still not entirely convinced that Wheeljack having the freedom to call her all hours of the day was going to be a good idea. The symbol itself was still an oddity but it would have to do. "So, what do we do now?"

There was a long pause on the phone and Allison wasn't sure if Wheeljack was thinking or distracted again, but he soon responded.

"We wait."

Well that didn't exactly leave a whole lot answered but Wheeljack was so far the king of understatements, leaving Allison no choice but to tuck all her questions about their fate away. She realized that for all his size and alien appearance, Wheeljack seemed to be just as susceptible to the same foibles as her. A creature like him commanded a great deal of attention, and the first general assumption to make would be that he would be all-knowing. While his knowledge of the universe was indeed great, when it came down to the small matters of what to do next, he had no more clue than she did. And that worried her. He likely didn't even know what was in store for them, and at this point it seemed to be a matter of waiting it out to see if her boss made any attempt to contact her. The problem with that lay with the fact there was no sort of time-frame or even assurance that he would contact her at all. This could all have been for nothing so far.

Allison looked out at the park for a moment, breathing in deep. Wheeljack was silent which gave her some time to think things through. She didn't even know where to begin.

"I-er, just need a moment Wheeljack," she said, and when he didn't respond, she added with emphasis, "Alone."

"Fair enough," he said lightly, and all at once disappeared from the other side of the phone, leaving an odd, almost awkward silence. Allison lingered at his hood for a moment, feeling somewhat weird saying goodbye to a car, so instead settled on a pathetic wave that would have looked stupid to anyone who saw her. Trying to recover herself she turned quickly and hurried down the path, and eventually came to a partially wooded spot on the small dirt road that provided some cover from the street. Careful to stay within eyesight of Wheeljack, although he was now a good distance away, she sat down on a bench and sighed. Her thoughts were a great deal more tangled now than she ever thought possible.

* * *

**02/27/2011 - Minor edits**


	10. Interlude at the Park

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**

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**

Wheeljack watched Allison walk away, and despite all his misgivings at letting her stray too far, he forced himself to remember that she was an adult, by their standards at least, and still deserved space. Partly it was guilt, knowing that she was frustrated, her much smaller, less expansive cognitive abilities not easily able to grasp everything that had been thrown onto her plate over the last few days. Despite all that though, he had to admit that he was more impressed with her resolve so far than his previous notions about her instability permitted. She was taking things quite calmer than he'd suspected, at least on the outside, but he knew with a pang of dread that internally there were things she was not sharing with him. Given his limited experience with humans so far, he knew at least enough to tell when to press an issue, and when not to. Then again, as he watched her sit idly at the bench alone, her knees drawn up to her chin in contemplative silence, he felt all at once sorry for her. It had never occurred to him until now what kind of weight had been placed on her shoulders, and she was likely feeling the pressure like a few megatons of crystallized energon.

Allison also also looked lonely, and that made him realize that watching her at such a distance, he was lonely too. What he wanted to do, and what he should, and could do, were two totally opposite things, and starting some chaos in the park during the middle of the day was not a good idea. So instead, he watched her sit alone, doing his own bit of brooding as he tried to think of something encouraging to say to her when she came back. He was lost in his own thoughts, and didn't even notice the tendrils of communication enter his immediate sensory nodes until an all-too familiar presence announced its arrival.

_"You need to keep moving."_ The voice was gruff, almost commanding. Wheeljack recognized the jarring, scratchy grumble immediately.

_"Ratchet?"_ It took a few nanoseconds to process the voice he'd just heard, cutting into his awareness abruptly throwing his concentration briefly into disarray. After all, being on his own for so long he'd quickly gotten used to his internal conversations being decidedly one-sided.

_"I'm right behind you, you thick-headed glitch,"_ he replied, and sure enough upon further inspection and a brief scan, Wheeljack was able to confirm that the Autobot medic had pulled up right behind him. He hadn't even noticed; had been too involved in thinking about what to say next to Allison to even become aware of another Cybertronian presence in such close proximity. The suspiciously driver-less ambulance had pulled right into the parking lot, driving near him slow and sneaky like a predator.

Woops.

_"Primus, I could have been a Decepticon and you wouldn't have even known it. And I see you've made yourself known to the human?"_ the medic remarked, his internal tone decorated with something close to irritation, which was generally how he always sounded. Wheeljack bristled at the question, feeling irritated.

_"We're fine,"_ he grumbled. While he often enjoyed spending time alone and shutting himself up in his lab, he wasn't truly and completely a loner. He enjoyed having others around to admire his work, and enjoyed working with those who were on the same level of intelligence, whatever their field. Sometimes he just enjoyed having someone around to explain things to. But in times like this, if he had to share his space with someone he'd much rather it be someone who wasn't likely to spend that time gnawing away at his mood and adding to his frustration. _"There wasn't much of a choice. There was an explosion-_not_ one of mine-and things happened too fast. I had to step in. But we're fine."_

Ratchet was someone he had a common affinity with. They'd spent a great deal of time working with each other and generally got along well. But they dealt with stress in completely different ways. Whereas Wheeljack would indulge in his work to occupy his mind, Ratchet's mouth flapped in the ears of anyone close enough, and unfortunate enough, to bear the brunt of his complaints. It would have at least been bearable if he'd gotten some type of advance warning, if not to just be able to mentally prepare. Ratchet had simply just appeared out of nowhere, and it was a rather rude shove back into the real world.

_"Sure you are. Which is why she's over there and you're over here."_ he observed snidely, instigating an internal eye-roll from Wheeljack who was not all up for entertaining Ratchet's bluntness.

_"It's been a crazy couple of days. She just needs to get some air. She said so herself."_ Wheeljack said sullenly, if not for his own benefit, considering the fact he really didn't know the true reason that Allison had wished to be alone. Humans were a hard lot to predict, and understand, their curiosities never failing to perplex him. He hoped that perhaps some day soon he'd more easily understand their inconsistencies.

_"What she says and what she means aren't always going to be the same thing. She's a female, and a female human at that. She's probably scared to death by you. Primus, half the Autobot faction is scared to death by you."_ Ratchet's trenchant remark was not all that far off the mark, and Wheeljack knew that, despite doing his best to ignore the mild stirrings of inadequacy that plagued him at that moment. Allison so far was still rather externally closed off, and he was finding it hard to find ways to get her to open up to him, which was something that was paramount. It would do neither of them any good to keep anything tucked away, her especially, and a lot of their success depended on working together and being open.

_"I don't need a lecture from you Ratchet."_ Wheeljack bit back, trying to drown those thoughts from whence they came, growing even more annoyed by the medic's pestering. He could feel the ripple of annoyance over the com between them as Ratchet worked up a retort.

_"Oh yeah? I'd rather be elsewhere myself Wheeljack, but after you failed to report in, and continued to fail at reporting in for weeks, I started to get a little worried you'd gone and driven yourself into the ocean finally, what with the way you seem to lack any attention to what you're doing half the time-"_

_"What's the real reason you're here?"_ Wheeljack cut him off, feeling himself physically shudder at the newest additions to things he had to worry about.

_"I'm only here because Prime sent me. Had to make sure to send someone who could put you back together after all if we were to find you in pieces."_

_"I'm touched that you care."_

_"Eh, you know me. Now get the girl and get out of here. Besides, I've made this my favorite nap spot, and you're in it,"_ he grumbled. Grumbling was the medic's way, as his age and experience over the years had given birth to an irreverent bedside manner that made most Autobots prefer to stay lying out in the field damaged then end up on Ratchet's operating table. Oh, he was one of the best, fixed any mech up better than anyone, but gave one a good talking to and a thorough whipping when all was said and done. He was one of the oldest Autobots currently on Earth, and that often led to him sticking his nose in business that didn't really apply to him, or at least he seemed to think it did.

_"Now what do you think she's going to do when she sees your broken down aft parked behind me?"_ Wheeljack countered, smiling inwardly as his annoyance fell victim to a sudden switch in his attitude. The verbal tussle was a nice break, and he'd never really been a mech that could stay annoyed for very long. Despite that, his inquiry was quite true, as he had to assume that she'd be quite alarmed to find a large, red and white ambulance nonchalantly parked behind him.

Not to be outdone, Ratchet decided not to remain completely discreet for long. Wheeljack buzzed with horrified surprise when he felt his back end get smacked forward rather rudely by Ratchet's passenger door. His whole frame pitched forward, and feeling very offended he loudly blared a remarkable reproduction of a car horn.

Allison shot up from the bench and looked in every direction at the sound of his distress. All the color had drained from her face as she looked on at Wheeljack in muted terror, possibly unsure if his outburst had been a signal to run or not. Thankfully Ratchet had at least decided to exercise some restraint, and had shot back in reverse before Allison caught sight of him, coming to rest quietly in a spot underneath a large maple tree. He thought he needed to cool the flames quickly, and hurriedly grabbed for the signal wavelength he associated with her phone, and with care, manipulated the frequency into something he could use, fooling the primitive piece of technology into thinking it was receiving a call. She struggled with it in her coat, but was already walking back towards him hesitantly when she picked it up.

"He...Hello?" she sounded extremely unsure, but he attributed that to her not knowing how to actually answer it when it was him.

"We should move on... erm... before we have any unwelcome guests," he said quickly, wincing as he felt the internal slap over his com link that told him Ratchet was very much still listening. In a fit of defiance, and a desire to declare to the medic how thoroughly finished with him he was, he purposely locked down all his low-range systems to block him out. There was a rumble of an engine not far from him, Ratchet's more audible response to being cut off.

"Well what was that all about?" Allison hissed, quickly getting into the driver's seat as he backed out of the stall he had occupied. "And when did that ambulance get here?" she said suddenly, but almost offhandedly, completely unaware of the fact that he was intentionally staring the ambulance down. It wasn't exactly unnoticeable, sitting completely alone in a row of stalls that were empty.

"I'm surprised you didn't notice it, after all it was pitching an awful fit when it drove in... guess you must have been, ah, misplaced in your thoughts," Wheeljack said quickly trying to recover, and sped off back into the main streets of the city, leaving Ratchet far behind.

"You mean lost in my thoughts," Allison corrected. "And that reminds me..." she added quietly, almost hesitantly. "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Of course Allison, ask whatever you like." Wheeljack said, grateful at the prospect of having something new to occupy his attentions.

"I, well, had this letter on my door and apparently I have to pick something up from the post office..." she said delicately, and she leaned over to reach for something she'd set down on the other seat.

"Perhaps it is a clue," he said, perking up a little bit, even more so once he realized that Ratchet had decided not to follow. He'd deal with Ratchet later. Once he'd figure out how to break it to Allison that she may have to endure the company of a perpetual grump.

"Maybe you're right," she said, trailing off as if it hadn't occurred to her. The possibility was always there that it was nothing, but they had to at least follow any sort of lead that came their way. After all, they didn't exactly have a lot to go on at this point.

"Alright then, just tell me where. I've always wanted to see a post office, but have never had the time..." and he was about to ramble again but quickly stopped himself, because he could tell that Allison had a question on her lips.

"That ambulance... was there any kind of trouble? Usually an ambulance means trouble..."

"Non whatsoever. It was just being nosy." he said bitterly, jerking forward a little bit, causing Allison to sway forward. She seemed unaffected.

"The ambulance? Or the driver?"

"Both."

Now that he was out of Ratchet's immediate perception range, he opened up his channels once again, after all, keeping them permanently closed should an emergency arrive, would have been foolish. Besides, having them closed felt too cramped. Thankfully Ratchet didn't burst in with an explosion of fury as soon as the pathway was clear, and it was blissfully quiet. For now. The next few weeks were going to be that much harder now. Ultimately he was going to have to explain Ratchet's presence to Allison, and he had to figure out a way to do it delicately. Seeing as Wheeljack was quite sure Ratchet would spare no time dogging them around the city now, she was sure to become suspicious should she notice the same emergency vehicle following them around everywhere. Eventually Ratchet would likely just make his presence known and spare him the trouble of having to tell her, but besides, Wheeljack had to admit to himself that he needed the help. The repairs had been slow-going so far, and without Ratchet's assistance he wasn't even sure he'd be able to get them all done because most of it strayed beyond his realm of expertise. It was like a blessing hidden behind the mask of a curse. A blessing that wasn't afraid to maim you any further before actually repairing you.

"So, this post office we're going to. It's a kind of courier service, is it?" Wheeljack finally asked, trying to push all thought of Ratchet out of his head for the time being.

"Yes, it is."

"So why does it exist when you have perfectly operating digital means of communication, ancient as they are."

"Digital communication is still somewhat in its infancy, as you just pointed out. A lot of people in this world don't yet have computers."

"Your boss does though, surely. I mean, his entire empire revolves around digital matter and electronic services." he pointed out. Allison sighed.

"Of sorts yes, though it's not really an empire exactly. It's just a major business...well... Actually, I guess you could call it a business empire I suppose. Though he's not the big boss. Just my boss. At any rate, at some point most people have a need to deliver parcels. And while I'm sure your race has a more sophisticated method of transporting objects from one place to another within seconds, unfortunately for us it takes weeks. Sometimes even months."

"Sounds deplorable and unpractical." He said with an internal wince at the mere though. It was laughably absurd, by his own Cybertronian standards at least, but he had to assume that for them, that was likely the standard method of doing things. He couldn't imagine having to wait that much time for something.

"It is, for the most part. Especially when things get lost. It does have it's advantages though." she countered, sounding genuinely convinced.

"Such as?" he asked, not quite as easily swayed but interested to hear more.

"Well... I guess you can't hack an envelope. And only one exists. You can't automatically duplicate it."

"Actually, you can. There's this device on the planet Surplexis 4 that I was given the opportunity to tinker with once. It was created to replicate the matter in any kind of object, and rebuild a clone of it. Really fascinating."

"Uh huh I'm sure it is. But fortunately for us, we don't have that technology. Which means the envelope, for now, is the only copy. Meaning the data is, technically, safe. So maybe this has some relevance to you, whatever it is, because I'm not actually expecting anything else."

Because if it didn't they were back to square one.

* * *

**02/27/2011 - Minor edits**


	11. Meet the Grampulance

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

* * *

Allison supposed she should have seen it coming, for when they arrived at the Post Office Wheeljack was practically bursting at the seams from the sight of it. It was busy for the time of year. Lots of people were around carrying packages of all shapes and sizes, and Allison had the weird notion that Wheeljack was likely scanning each and every one of them to see just exactly what all the fascinating humans could possibly be sending to one another. The downside to that though, was that it was definitely busy, and that meant she'd have to wait in line.

"Crap," she muttered. "Well, I guess you can at least entertain yourself by snooping in on other people's private business, huh?" she said casually, at this point not really having the resolve to find it annoying, or even intimidating anymore. It was just a reality, Wheeljack having remarkable powers of sticking his nose in places it likely wasn't wanted, and she was just going to have to get used to it.

"What makes you think I would do that?" He countered, his tone of innocence clearly mocking, which only accentuated his guilt even more. Allison stifled a laugh and got out, doing her best to avoid the curious stares of onlookers wondering who on earth could possibly be driving such a flashy car.

And sure enough the post office was crowded. With a groan Allison got in line, scowling as she noted that cleverly the courier agents had taken great care to leave only two stations open to service the growing line. That was fairly typical. It was like they were so bored they purposely kept people waiting just to annoy them in order to stay busy. Allison was not so fussed with the queue, but more concerned about Wheeljack outside. This being such a different setting, and one where he was not entirely focused on her, it presented probably twice as many distractions that would have ever been outside the Opex Sun. She stood in line for probably ten minutes, fidgeting impatiently as her gaze darted back and forth between the fogged over main window and the front counter. Each time she looked it was no different. Wheeljack sat obediently outside and nobody was the wiser.

That was until, Wheeljack wasn't alone, and a familiar mousy brown-haired male was standing right next him leering suspiciously.

Oh crap, she thought gravely, looking worriedly at the counter. She was almost at the front, and didn't want to step out of line for fear of losing her place. It was like the damn agents were purposely taking their time, her distress a tangible weight in the air that only encouraged them to move slower, their falsely sweet smiles a testament to her mistrust. Danny was circling Wheeljack, eying him ferociously like a dog, recognition clear on his face as he weighed the vehicle up and down. There wasn't so much as a visual queue from Wheeljack but she just knew that he was hating every single minute of it. She was so close, she had to get the stupid letter and get the hell out of there, not sure if Wheeljack would lose his patience-

"Next," the woman's voice was very pronounced over her thoughts, and it took Allison a second to realize that she'd been nudged by the person behind her, the woman having called her forward about three times before she'd finally paid attention to it. She hurried up the counter, greeting the woman quickly as she pulled out her ID, signing the slip in a rush as the woman sauntered into the back to grab whatever was waiting for her. Allison risked a look back, and found that Danny was peering into the window, his hand over his brow trying to force his eyes to see something that likely wasn't there. The postal agent finally walked out a few seconds later with a large, very plain envelope in her hands, smiling as Allison grabbed it up in a panic.

"Thank you!" she called over her shoulder and rushed out the door, barely waiting for the sliding glass to get out of her way before she intercepted Danny at a half run, skidding to a stop.  
"H-Hey!" she shouted, grabbing his arm. He jerked up and met her gaze, clearly confused.

"Allison?" he croaked, looking back and forth between her and the car in dawned understanding. Then suddenly he grabbed her arm roughly, his face contorting into an awful scowl as he dragged her away. She stumbled to keep up, stammering demands for him to stop and trying hard not to look behind her. She half feared she would see Wheeljack bursting out of hiding with an angry explosion of gears to come to her aid but thankfully he restrained himself. Now would have not been a good time, and Allison hadn't even stopped to consider how he'd react to her running into people she knew, most of all Danny.

"What happened to you?" he hissed, pulling her close. She could smell his cologne. It made her head feel floaty, and caused her to hesitate.

"Erm- nothing, I.. uh..." she started trying to come up with something quick, just then realizing that she had never called him to reassure him that she was alright. He'd asked her to before he'd left her office, and she'd completely forgotten...

And had missed work the next day. Damn.

"I tried calling you but you're phone was dead! I was worried about-" he started, softening his grip on her arm, his voice dropping to a normal timbre.

"I know, Danny, I'm sorry..." she started apologetically, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her mouth. "Something came up, and I.. well, I had to take the day off on short notice," she lied, hoping he didn't probe further because she was out of ideas. She'd never been good at improvising. Thankfully he didn't press it for the time being, but he glanced back at Wheeljack, his face returning to a scowl of disapproval. Before he could speak she stopped him.  
"Um, about that," she started, trying to come up with an excuse that didn't sound half-assed and improbably but it was hard. "Funny thing actually..."

"Are you here with this person?" he asked quickly, looking around as if he'd recognize whoever it was. She shook her head, and wriggled her arm out of his grasp.

"Ah no, I'm alone, but as it turns out... eh, the car actually belonged to a new maintenance guy. Silly misunderstanding actually..."

"Any you're here with it... because why?" Danny pointed out, folding his arms to suggest he wasn't quite buying it, but it was the only thing she had to offer. After all, the truth was out of the question.

"Well after we got to talking, real nice guy, he let me... borrow the car, seeing as something came up-" she lied, prodding around her jacket pockets for show. "Although I seem to keep misplacing my keys..."

You're a terrible liar, Allison."

Allison froze, ceasing her attempts to look for her imaginary keys, and frowned at him. She had nothing else to offer, and had been completely caught off-guard.

"Look I should really go... I'll tell you later, okay? Just trust me, I'm fine..." and she turned to walk away quickly, wanting to avoid further contact, at least until she could get some kind of story straight. As soon as she turned she was overwhelmed with the oddest sensation of rage coming from Wheeljack's general vicinity, so palpable it nearly threw her back in surprise. Now she was feeling edgy. Wheeljack was clearly displeased, and she didn't know him well enough yet to be able to judge how much of a loose cannon he was. She had to go.

"Allison!" Danny made a final grab for her arm as she turned to go, and he caught her hand swiftly, pulling her back. His brazen, boldness didn't go unnoticed, and Allison flinched as she saw with horror that Wheeljack literally convulsed with what she could have only assumed was suppressed fury. Danny didn't notice the odd car actually move within its parking spot, but he also wasn't about to let go. Now trying to ignore Wheeljack, Allison turned to look at Danny, surprised to see him with hurt in his eyes.

"When you didn't call me I got worried... All morning I spent looking for you-" he started, but stopped once he'd realized what he was revealing, his face starting to burn a subtle crimson. Allison didn't like what she needed to do, but it had to be done, for Wheeljack's lack of patience was so strong, she could almost taste it in the back of her throat. She was shocked to be able to feel this degree of distress from him, surprised and confused that it would come now, of all times, and it made her dimly wonder if Wheeljack was sensing danger and trying to signal her-

-The buzzing in her pocket decided for her, and she swallowed hard, wrenching her hand from Danny's grasp, trying to sound intimidating, knowing she was possibly destroying any sort of feeble relationship they had.

"Look, if I want you're help I'll ASK for it," she hissed, and turned away, feeling her heart grow cold at the thought of what his expression would likely reveal. Instead of looking back, she hurried over to Wheeljack who was eager to open the door for her and let her inside. She paused, forcing her hands on the wheel, and nearly got thrown forward as Wheeljack floored it in reverse, just narrowly avoiding a collision with a car that had been trying to drive past. It's horn blared at her, jarring her out of her distractions but she refused to look out, and instead tried to busy herself with looking like she was driving as Wheeljack spared no time shooting out of the parking lot.

Allison's heart ached, and she didn't feel the need to even bother trying to look convincing as he drove, but instead tried to find something interesting on Wheeljack's stagnant dashboard to get her mind off things. It was difficult, staring at something relatively mundane, but she had to try and picture something aside from Danny's betrayed expression. It hurt.

"I don't trust him." Wheeljack said calmly, and she barely heard him for all the off-handedness in which he offered his unwelcome opinion. Allison bristled, fury nearly peaked.

"Why?" she questioned in disbelief, not at all in the mood to entertain his eccentricities at the moment. She'd hurt a friend, and for what? For a mechanical humanoid from space that she'd been acquainted with for all of 48 hours...

"Because he is untrustworthy," Wheeljack said simply, and Allison gaped at his audacity for just altering his previous statement.

"What?" she cried, her disbelief, even in all its intensity still overwhelmed by Wheeljack's all-encompassing sense of superiority. Wheeljack didn't respond, either not knowing what to say, or not feeling bothered to explain himself. That made her even angrier. She fumed, trying to come up with a better retort to fill the gap of silence between them but her anger was clouding her judgment, and she was afraid she'd say something stupid if she didn't just keep her mouth shut.

Who exactly did Wheeljack think he was? Telling her very pointedly, almost with an air of authority, who she should confide in. That was positively insulting. Finally, after what had felt like forever if them driving down mostly deserted streets in the rain, Wheeljack spoke, his voice very harsh and lacking the emotional brightness it normally had.

"You barely know him, and you're asking me why I don't think he's trustworthy? I saw the way he grabbed you. The male isn't worth the time." he said frankly.

"I barely know him? Are you crazy? I barely know you, and for you to tell me who I can and can't trust is... well... it's insulting I've managed to survive 23 years without willfully trusting someone I shouldn't, so I don't think I need the opinion of a robot to tell me how to run my relationships." Allison felt her face red as the words spilled out, not sure where they were coming from. She had her arms folded now, trying to avoid physical contact with Wheeljack as much as possible. Her mind was a muddled mess of anger and regret, and she couldn't think straight. Who did he think he was, dishing out his opinions about her personal life like they were hors d'oeuvres.

"Twenty-three earth cycles? That is hardly an acceptable lifetime of experience to make informed decisions."

Almost in shock, and unable to process what she'd heard, all she could think about was strangling that giant neck of his.

"Well here's a decision for you. I don't trust you, you giant metal asshole, so let me out!" Allison slapped Wheeljack's dashboard in place of having no face to direct her frustrations on, her hand moving purely on instinct before she could stop it. She wanted nothing more at that moment than for him to stop so she could get out and walk away. Walk away from him, and wash her hands of this business. It was after all, his, and some Optimus Prime's problem, whom she'd never even met to place the same lofty importance to that Wheeljack did. What did she really care if their precious information was stolen?

There was no telling Wheeljack twice what she wanted, for there was a sudden spin of wheels as he slid across the pavement and onto gravel at the mouth of a sullen alleyway. They were just outside of town now, heading back towards the barn, but there were sparse buildings that dotted the edges of the more populated areas. He shifted mid-slide, right into an alleyway between two of the buildings that was only just wide enough for him to fit in. They got about halfway down it when his door opened, and Allison was forcibly pushed out onto the road.

Wheeljack transformed quickly, an angry roar of moving machinery, towering high above her if only to remind her of the power he actually had over something as small as her. The walls closed in tight around everything making her feel trapped, adding to his imposing stature as she tried to backwards crawl away from him against one of the brick walls that surrounded them. It was still raining, in fact, as if intentionally trying to add to the mood it seemed to have intensified, and the water fell down in torrents around them. It dribbled down drain pipes, swooshed into gutters at her feet, and dripped from Wheeljack's frame in rivulets and onto the ground between them.

Wheeljack glared at her for the longest time, his eyes somehow narrowed to mere slits of searing light, and she waited with bated breath terrified of what he would do. Millions of thoughts danced around in her head; most of which, if this would be the moment that he would kill her. It would only take one quick moment for him to snuff out her life, and he could do it any number of ways, all of which were flashing before the forefront of her mind in quick succession. Oddly enough she didn't feel the need to panic, perhaps the limits of her anger and terror exuding an obscene calmness over her body that kept her rooted there, returning his glare in awestruck defiance.

"If I really wasn't trust worthy, you would be dead by now Allison. Believe me." He said, his voice deadly enough to add credence to those words. He stood up straighter and stared into the sky. "You're right. I am made of metal. I am from space. But you're not the only one who feels pain. You're not the only one in the universe who can be hurt by words or actions. I came a long way Allison. A very long way. I'm very far from home, and I would give anything to be back. But I am here, because I'm needed here. And you need do need me." his words would have been more reassuring had he not been speaking with so much venom, and she recoiled internally at the aggression hidden behind every word.

All Allison could do was stare up at Wheeljack, a mixture of fear and shame clouding her thoughts. It didn't matter, for at that moment she was never more sure of something in her life: That she wanted to turn her back to him and walk away. So she did. Slowly she managed to stand, her newly born suspicion of Wheeljack keeping her from taking her eyes off him. He returned her stare, now devoid of any kindness she had seen in it before. It was a strange sensation to be able to see those emotional queues on a face so unlike her own, but there was no more brightness, or mischief there.

Forcibly, she managed to turn and began to walk away. The feel of his eyes pressing against her back made her hair prickle and stand on end, so she broke into a run, feeling a sob rise up her throat. Behind her, Wheeljack did not say anything, and he did not follow. He let her go, and she didn't even care to look back. Allison kept running, the feeling of panicked flight feeling all too familiar as she struggled to figure out where she was. She half expected to see Wheeljack drive up next to her in a huff at any second, but he never did. It was an odd feeling, the weird sense of absence she now felt, like his presence had been so all-encompassing it was nearly tangible. Everything was now very still and quiet, even the occasional sounds of harmless cars and people on the street seeming completely muted.

Allison finally stopped, feeling just slightly familiar with where she was, and on impulse got on the first bus that came down the road heading in the opposite direction from her previous chaos. She found a seat in the back where it was less crowded, feeling suddenly very out of place and smothered in an atmosphere that now seemed so unfamiliar. All the conversations seemed to blend together in a cantabile of blending voices and pitches, the sounds of the bus itself feeling very forced, and even fragile compared to what she'd so quickly gotten used to. The sound of Wheeljack's "driving" while altogether very different from any normal car, but similar enough to not feel jarring, was something she'd grown accustomed to. Like the sounds themselves had been so alive, and a source of comfort to her, knowing that there was at least one being out there looking out for her-

But hadn't Danny been actively trying to find her earlier that morning? Trying make sure she was okay?

Allison forcibly pushed the thoughts from her mind, taking a deep breath, which did nothing to soothe her rattled nerves. She rested her head against the cool glass, trying to concentrate on the rain drops as they slid down the glass, but they only reminded her of teardrops, and that's when she about lost it. Trying to hide her face in her hands she didn't bother trying to suppress the tears. They came freely, sliding down her cheeks in hot bursts as she forced the choking sobs back down into her throat lest she make a scene on the middle of the bus. It was impossible to completely hide her distress, but she pretended by not looking at anyone around her, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt an insistent buzzing of her phone against her lap. She ignored it, knowing with certainty that it was likely Wheeljack trying to contact her, perhaps even now in a panic that she'd disappeared. She didn't care. After all, this mess wasn't hers, and to think that she should have to be responsible for it seemed unfair.

Her phone kept buzzing. It didn't stop for the nearly two hours she'd spent on that bus, letting it take her to unknown places in the city. Finally, a location caught her interest and she quickly got off, careful to avoid the looks of anyone who'd been on the bus to see her display of emotion. It was the park they'd been at earlier, decidedly more deserted this much later in the day, and the light was just starting to dim to a dull blue of twilight. Allison walked out across the parking lot, now emptier then it had been in the day, save for the lone ambulance that was now occupying the same spot on the end Wheeljack had been in before. She glanced at it questioningly, but it was empty, so she disregarded it as nothing and walked on, circling the park a few times on the pathway, not really knowing what else to do with herself. Finally, growing tired of doing laps, she found another bench near the ambulance, and feeling less exposed sitting next to a vehicle rather than alone surrounded by vegetation, she parked herself there for a while to brood.

Allison sighed heavily, glancing to the side only briefly when the ambulance's engine made an odd clicking noise that sounded too much like someone clicking their tongue in disgust. Aside from that everything else was quiet and still, the sounds of the rain hitting the leaves around her adding a soothing presence to the air. Eventually she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone which had finally gone quiet, her only resolve to see what he had splurged. There was a biting sense of disappointment when she noticed that it wasn't, in fact, from Wheeljack at all but a reminder in regards to her phone bill. Quite a few of them oddly enough, but each one the same. They said "Come back." There were all like that, all 47 of them before Wheeljack had apparently gotten disgruntled or bored, but she found herself going through each and every one of them.

"Clever," she muttered. "But it's not going to work." She put the phone back in her bag making sure it was still set only to vibrate if only to have some form of mild peace if Wheeljack would attempt to contact her again. Looking out at the park it was just finally starting to set in what had actually happened, and what she'd done. Running off had probably been stupid to say the least, if even half of what Wheeljack had said was true. She wasn't sure what it was or even why, but she'd been scared, and just a little bit angry. It had been a long time since she'd truly fought with someone like that; A long time since she'd fought with someone she'd cared about.

Wait...

Had she really needed his presence that much? Was she really that lonely? She doubted that Wheeljack was devoid of friends and really cared for her presence outside of his mission, so what exactly was her problem? He probably didn't really need her, and had clearly been more than irate. That was a side of him she didn't want to see again. Tip-toeing around something like that was unpredictable and just plain stupid.

"Wheeljack's stubbornness is just like his processor ; too big for his head." The voice, deep and gruff, rumbled out of nowhere, and Allison lept off the bench and spun around to see who had possibly snuck up on her without her noticing. There was nobody around, except—

The ambulance.

She blinked, then squinted at the lonely vehicle. No one was there, so she walked up to it and peered around the side of it. Nothing. She looked inside it, but no one was behind the wheel. Finally she ventured around the back to see if anyone was hiding there, but again there was no sign of life. No human life anyway. Just a plain, red and white tactical first-response emergency vehicle.

She couldn't believe she'd been so stupid, not to mention careless.

Allison took a step back, unable to respond for lack of anything to really say. She should have figured it out ages ago. Why else would Wheeljack have been so wound up about an innocent ambulance, whose only crime had been to block a parking space for most of the day. Not exactly subtle. Her phone rumbled again, the bag that contained it vibrating against her chest as she pressed it against her like a meager shield. Finally she spoke the only words she could think of.

"You're the ambulance aren't you?" It was the most obvious thing to say, but it was the only question that came to mind. She still didn't know if this ambulance was friendly or otherwise, so she prepared herself to run, backing away a step for precaution's sake.

"No, I'm the expensive Jaguar sitting across the street. Of course I'm the ambulance." the voice responded with vehement sarcasm that made her feel just slightly stupid for even opening her mouth. It was a weird sensation to have something so brutally accuse her of simple-mindedness, and she fumbled for something to rebuke it with. She was, actually, suddenly very irritated.

"Are all Autobots such arrogant jackasses?" she bit back, leaning forward a bit as she felt her face suddenly get very hot with defiance. She had come to the conclusion regarding the ambulance's alliance by two simple facts; one being that it hadn't attacked her yet, and the second being that it was acting like a total jerk. Two features she had come to include in the Autobot job description. The fact that it was an ambulance also helped to assign it with a sort of benevolent nature. She couldn't imagine a Decepticon being such a symbol of good will. Of course, if a Decepticon was anything like it's name implied, than maybe such a disguise couldn't be more suitable.

"I'm not the one calling the other names," the voice, clearly also male, pointed out delicately.

"Oh, sarcastic too." She frowned. "I think it's time we cut the pleasantries. Why don't you just tell me why you're here?" She couldn't help but wonder if the Autobot was going to bother transforming or not. She also wondered if such a refusal to do so was in fact a symbol of disrespect, because it sure felt like it. In fact, not being able to see his face while he threw mild belittling insults at her was almost infuriating.

"Since you seem to be missing your orbital capabilities, I was in fact taking a well-deserved nap. Not that you would know, since you were too absorbed with your self-importance to notice." he growled.

"I was upset." she attempted, annoyed at the assumption that his real identity should have been well-known, when in fact, she had really only thought it to be a simple human vehicle. Why was she defending herself? "Well you spoke to me first, so I'm assuming you wanted to talk to me?"

"Now why would I want to waste my time talking to a water fountain like you?"

"Water fountain!"

"You heard me. One small bad thing happens and your leaking like a broken down Sharkicon."

"That's not true! What's a Sharkicon?"

"Giant metal ball of teeth. It could put a hole right through your rear axle."

"I don't have a rear axle," she said, wondering if she should be offended.

"That's why you humans are so inferior."

Allison bit her lip irritably, feeling rather insulted and altogether frustrated with the way the conversation had gone so far. It was almost like he was trying to intentionally drive her away with such off-handed rudeness. She really wasn't in the mood to entertain any more self-absorbed robots so she turned to go, not even bothering to say anything to the ambulance as she started walking away. Almost immediately there was the sound of wheels against the pavement that made her freeze. She nearly choked on her own tongue when the ambulance suddenly and aggressively swerved around to stop her, nearly running her over in the process.

"Stop." the command was very firm, and almost sounded concerned. Still not convinced she side-stepped him and kept walking.

"If none of you guys want to be nice, I'm out of here." Her phone started buzzing again. Allison ignored it and kept walking, slinging her bag back over her shoulder and tried to look indifferent as she walked away. "Save the world or whatever it is you're doing on your own." She only got a few steps when she heard the familiar grinding and clacking noises of a transformation behind her.

"Wait." This time he didn't sound quite as patient.

She stopped walking and turned around slowly, not entirely sure what she was going to see or if she even had any expectations at all. Regardless, once she saw him she knew she would have never in her wildest imaginations even been able to guess at what he looked like.

He was a little bit shorter than she would have expected, given the bulkier nature of the vehicle compared to Wheeljack. Like Wheeljack's strange ridges, this one's head was decorated as well with a centered, chevron crest that looked like it had been broken off on one side. The cab section of the ambulance form hung low on the bottom of his front, adorned with the same symbol Wheeljack had which she now could see, giving the impression of a prominent gut, but for all that oddly placed bulk he didn't seem completely encumbered with what might have been awkward. The roof of the ambulance, stooped low over his shoulders and two red cross adorned plates framed his shoulders like they were tacked on.

What probably started her most, was his face. Even clearly inorganic, she could still tell that this particular individual had some years under his belt, even more so than Wheeljack. What she'd gotten used to in him, not having a mouth and showing speech in different ways, this one's human-like face was completely open. Two, icy blue eyes, the same paneled nose, and a mouth that was currently turned down in a scowl. It was almost comical, and yet also it underlined something quite prominent. .

"You're old..." Allison immediately regretted it as it left her mouth, but she couldn't take it back, She braced herself for impact.

"And your point?" he shot back.

It was no wonder the Autobot sounded so mean. This one wasn't just extremely aged, judging from the state of him he'd obviously seen so much combat that, had she been in the same position, she probably would have lost all her faith in humanity a long time ago. She suddenly felt somewhat humbled by his appearance. How old could he possibly be? Millions of years? Tens of millions? Whereas Wheeljack felt old to Allison, this ambulance was absolutely ancient.

The Autobot reached out and pointed at her bag, which was still buzzing as her phone continued to try and hail her. "You should probably answer that." he was frowning deeply.

Allison swung her bag around and pulled her phone out, bitting her lip with frustration. It was buzzing incessantly now, and didn't appear as if it ever was planning on stopping, signaling that Wheeljack was probably getting desperate at this point. She caught the word "Please" written on the screen from the portion of the message she could see displayed on the bottom. Allison hesitated, still wary of the ambulance that was partially stopped over her, and unsure if she could trust Wheeljack anymore. Looking at the Autobot hovering above her with her phone in his hand, they locked eyes, and his narrowed irritably at her.

"Primus you two glitches are acting like spoiled sparklings... now answer it." without yelling the ambulance seemed to have the uncanny ability to raise his voice to near terrifying levels without making it seem forced. Feeling somewhat guilty she looked at the screen which displayed "142 unread messages".

Damn you're persistent, she thought. At that point she realized that even if she'd holed up in a bunker in the middle of the jungle just to get away from him, Wheeljack likely would find her anyway. It was clear she couldn't ignore him forever. Give me a couple of minutes,she responded. The phone stopped buzzing.

"Wheeljack's a good mech. He's just a bit…proud." the ambulance Autobot cut in, seeming to look down the ridges of his nose at her, but in such a way that it no longer seemed completely condescending. A little bit at least. She returned his stare for a moment.

"I could say the same about yourself," she said, looking up at him. The ambulance shook his head and harrumphed,

"I aint got nothing to be proud of. Trust me..." he trailed off.

"How can I, when I don't even know your name?"

He stared at her for a moment, almost taken aback that she would even be interested.

"Ratchet." He said simply, albeit glossed over with a hint of suspicion.

"Okay Ratchet," she nodded. This name sounded almost normal compared to "Wheeljack" but she wasn't exactly in a position to judge. "What do you say we start over then?" she sighed. "This time with less insults."

He was silent for a moment, then looked around quickly as if expecting to see someone, but Allison certainly didn't sense anything out of the ordinary. He stopped and looked straight forward, his whole body stiff for a beat. He blinked out of it suddenly as if nothing unusual had just happened.

"Wheeljack is waiting for you," he said simply, glowering down at her impatiently as if, clearly, she should have known that already.

"Were you just talking to him?" she hazarded a guess that Ratchet's vacant stare before had been more than him possibly getting lost in his own daydreams. She had admit that the idea was pretty cool, but totally beyond her realm of understanding.

"Yes I was, and he's worked himself up into a nice fit because of you-"

"I thought he was damaged," she cut him off, trying to word it how Wheeljack had put it when he'd described his condition to her, assuming that Ratchet would know what she meant.

"Thankfully not so damaged that he can't use his local com system, but I suppose it's up to me to put his aft back together again," Ratchet growled. Ignoring his weird use of automobile vocabulary in place of English curses she finally put the two pieces together.

"Oh I get it. Ambulance, medic; you're a... um... doctor, aren't you?" If not for his very irritable presence the fact that he was a medical vehicle seemed enough to have been able to give it away. She assumed that had been intentional, but then again Wheeljack had decided to be what looked like a race car, a detail which she'd at some point intended to get a more clear answer from him other than "It was shiny".

"Good girl. I'm a doctor, not a babysitter, but it seems as if I'm going to have to be both if you two intend to make it out of this," he grumbled, shuffling away to leave himself room to transform back into the ambulance. "Alive." he added offhandedly, but Allison's skin crawled, so much so that she had to look around to be absolutely sure that there wasn't another presence there. She was still unnerved, and turned back to Ratchet as he finished transforming, barely leaving time for the last panels to fall into place when he swerved around to meet her, his passenger door literally flying open. Allison had to jump back to avoid getting smacked by it, and she hesitated as he stopped, brakes making a soft ringing noise.

"Get in," he barked, but she didn't immediately jump in, feeling somewhat weird jumping into an ambulance should anyone see, almost as if she was doing something illegal. She stared into his cabin, at the one, single bench, wondering if she should trust his driving. "Now."

She flinched, but obliged immediately, her perpetual fear of his wrath overriding her questionable judgment. As soon as she sat down he tore out of the parking lot, and Allison had to catch herself on the dash to keep her face from smashing into it. It hurt her wrists, but she kept quiet, nursing them silently as she managed to get used to his erratic driving enough to be able to sit back. She assumed that being in this form, he had gotten used to a fair amount of freedom with the road.

"I swear I'm going to have to fix you too before this night is over. Strap yourself in girl!" he said, his voice very loud in the interior space. Instinctively, she was looking around for some visual indication of his voice in the interior, but unlike Wheeljack there was none. There was just the standard fair, complete with a panel in the middle that looked like it controlled the sirens. She resisted the urge to start pressing buttons, the childish delight of controlling emergency sirens suddenly very prominent.

"My name isn't 'girl' you know, I do have a real name..." she trailed off, feeling somewhat stupid for having to point it out, assuming for whatever reason that Ratchet likely didn't care.

"I know your name, don't need to have a server failure over it, Allison," he emphasized as if intentionally trying to make a point.

"Must you drive so erratically?" she asked, starting to feel a little light-headed at the lack of consistent direction. Just then Ratchet swerved around a corner, causing her to slide across the seat. She tried to grab something, and in her need to feel something solid in her hands she accidentally grabbed the steering wheel. She yelled, throwing her hands off as she felt it jerk underneath her fingertips, causing her to fling back in the other direction.

"I thought I told you to strap yourself in?" he bellowed

"How can I when you're all over the damn road?"

Ratchet applied the brakes and came to a skidding stop, back end fish-tailing, leaving a trail of smoke in its wake. She took his immediate silence as her queue and quickly wrapped the seat belt around her, somewhat repulsed to find it too to be warmer than it should have been. He didn't move right away so she took that as her chance to get in what she thought was a well-deserved question before he tore off again. Then she'd be more concerned with staying upright than talking.

"Why are you here?" the question seemed simple enough.

"To make sure Wheeljack doesn't get himself blown up, by any Decepticon, or himself," and the reply was simple as well, but still laced with something that sounded bitter.

"You know, for a medic you sure don't sound like you enjoy helping people." she said cautiously, unsure of how he'd respond to such an observation, but what he did say actually surprised her.

"I have no problem helping people. My problem is that they complain too much," he said sourly, but his voice was lower.

"You mean like you do?"

"I mean they're never happy. Never satisfied. Always something else that needs fixing." he continued quickly. She was starting to see what he meant, and cautiously wondered if maybe she was the only one who recognized it.

"You mean they don't appreciate you?" she said, but was thrown forward without a response as Ratchet hit the gas again, tearing off down the street, thankfully a lot straighter than previously. Allison had no idea where they were going, but assumed that Ratchet did, so she kept quiet. She got the impression that he was being moody, but assumed that him throwing her forward had been a queue to leave it alone. After she was feeling less sheepish, and a little bit more used to his bizarre command of the road (narrowly, but expertly avoiding a generous amount of collisions as they went), she was brave enough to ask another question.

"What was that about Wheeljack blowing himself up? Why would he do that?" she asked, taking care to press her body against the door for support, ignoring the warmth and pulsing fyoomph that traveled through the frame every other second or so; It was the same as Wheeljack.

"It wouldn't be the first time." he responded dryly.

"Wheeljack seems pretty intelligent. I can't imagine him doing something to endanger himself." There was a moments silence.

"There's something about Wheeljack you might want to hear."

"It appears as if I have time." Allison said.

"Wheeljack's one of the most intelligent bots alive. And it's because of that he's also extremely dangerous."

"How... how do you mean?" she ventured, now curious with the chance to learn more about Wheeljack from another robot's perspective, which in all honesty she never thought she'd be able to do.

"Wheeljack's extremely curious. It's like his thirst for new things drives him. As a scientist and an inventor, this makes him somewhat of a loose canon. What's more, he's also totally fearless. He seems to have absolutely no scruples about exploring new things, no matter how dangerous. I've seen him march straight into a highly radioactive met-cycle chamber, without any kind of protection whatsoever. Not even Prime would do that. And he didn't even hesitate." Ratchet had continued on, his voice taking on an almost awe-like sense, and Allison was starting to finally understand Wheeljack's notions of the Autobots' tight-nit bonds. It was clear in his voice. Allison felt a little intimidated by this information. While she didn't know what a meta-cycle chamber was, if it was enough to spook someone like Optimus Prime, then it must be something to be afraid of.

"Is he...evil?" she asked tentatively, remembering very vividly the image of him glowering down at her just hours before as if it was a clue to his true nature.

"No. No he's not. In fact you couldn't have found a more courageous warrior to befriend."

"He's a good fighter?" Wheeljack had never really discussed his actual war experiences, and had only glossed over the subject in broad abstracts. Not wanting to press old war-wounds Allison had never insisted that he talk about it, but if Ratchet was willing to divulge information she wanted to know. He was silent for another few moments, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking, or again, talking to Wheeljack in such a way that made her almost feel just slightly left out.

"As an inventor, he's also a great weaponsmith, but his greatest contributions have always been his abilities to turn literally anything into an advantage, even if it poses a danger to himself. Like I said, utterly fearless. But when given the opportunity one of the biggest sparklings you might ever meet." He was still speaking like one who had a great deal of confidence in Wheeljack, and Allison was trying to think things through when Ratchet's voice got dangerous again. "And he's also a total idiot. He's been sending out those messages on a live, open frequency. Any Decepticon could interfere." Allison felt his speed increase as if it was something Ratchet was just now realizing, and given his sudden urgency the possibility was very high.

"But I thought it was decoded!"

"It is. He's not dumb enough to send an open source signal, but he should know better than that. He must be desperate."

Feeling like she was to blame Allison shut her mouth tightly and was in the midst of grinding her jaw with worry when Ratchet suddenly and violently swerved to the left, sliding sideways as something massive and smoking entered their immediate path from somewhere up above. It pounded into the road mere feet away with a shower of sparks, bouncing a few times as Ratchet veered to avoid a collision, leaving a ruptured path of tarmac in its wake. The road cracked, and the object slowly rolled to a stop as it banked on the sidewalk. Ratchet came to a sudden stop and his doors opened, and Allison was unceremoniously tipped out onto the road allowing him to transform. He sat much higher than Wheeljack did, so she fell a generous distance onto the concrete, slamming into the ground painfully.

After the initial shock wore off, and nothing immediate and dangerous happened, she stood. Ratchet was standing out in the road, his "headlights" still on illuminating the object as it lay motionless on the shoulder. Allison was about to follow Ratchet, when the Autobot turned and held out his hand in a gesture that indicated she stay put. She watched, hesitantly as the Autobot cautiously approached the object. Ratchet made his way through the remaining smoke, and seemed to stand there for a while unmoving. Eventually he pressed his hand against the object. A moment passed, and he eventually turned around.

"It's OK. It's not a Decepticon. It's not even alive."

"Well it had to have come from somewhere," she said, looking around suspiciously. Objects that large, didn't just fall from the sky without a reason. She was suddenly feeling very vulnerable and exposed on the open road, not at all wanting to face something with ill-intent. Instinctively, she hurried towards the only source of protection she had, Ratchet, and he regarded her uneasily. Once she was up to him and some of the smoke cleared away she was able to actually see what it was.

"Oh my god..." she breathed. Sitting before, still moving as if in the final throes of death, was a severed jet engine. It had clearly been ripped off of whatever plane it had come from. While she hadn't had much occasion to get up close and personal with any, it was clear by the size, and not to mention the cracked, charred paint, that it had come from an airliner. Desperately she looked up at Ratchet. "Is this what I think it is?" as if to fully comprehend what she was seeing, she needed Ratchet to confirm it for her. He looked down at her, almost with a shred of pity. She looked up in the sky, expecting to see a fireball hurling towards them from above, or at least hear something, but the sky was clear; silent. If this wasn't some disgustingly obscene warning, than she didn't know what was. And fearfully she had a good idea, if it had indeed come from a Decepticon with only the intentions to throw something at them for his or her own amusement, who it had actually come from.

"Starscream," she breathed, and whether or not Ratchet heard her or just chose not to respond she didn't know, because he didn't say anything. She could barely even hear the words herself, her heart was thudding so fast in her chest. The turbines of the engine had finally stopped spinning, as if finally giving up on its attempts to stay alive, and just died. Staring at it grimly, Allison tried to find words to express her hidden guilt, but could only manage a pathetic squeak. She could tell Ratchet was looking at her and it was starting to bug her.

"Should we... I don't know, move it?" she asked quietly, at a loss for what she should do. Did anybody know yet? Allison wasn't stupid enough to think that there wasn't, some airliner, somewhere, even if not in their immediate vicinity, plummeting to the earth in flames. Or already down. It didn't matter though. It wasn't like she could stop it. When she didn't get an immediate response, she looked up at Ratchet again, who was sporting that same vacant, far-off expression that he'd had before. He was talking to Wheeljack.

"Best leave it where it is. We have to go. Wheeljack is waiting for us," he finally said, and he sounded exhausted. Allison was shocked to realize that that was probably one of the best things she'd heard all day. The desire to be back near Wheeljack was so strong it surprised even her, but he represented an all-encompassing sense of security that she desperately needed at that point. Everything that had happened earlier was quickly out of her mind. She wanted to tell Wheeljack how stupid she'd been, how he was right, how she did need him, for she was clearly in over her head with no way of getting out aside from him.

It wasn't that she didn't trust Ratchet, or didn't feel safe around him. It just wasn't the same. Despite her sudden need to be close to Wheeljack, part of her wondered if he was still going to be angry, or at the very least, was planning on giving her a stern talking-to when they got back. She didn't care. She wanted to be away from this engine and what it represented. Turning she walked away from it, allowing Ratchet the room to move and transform. As soon as he was back in his ambulance form she hurriedly got in when he opened the door and forced herself not to look back.

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**02/27/2011 - Some minor edits to the "argument" between Allison and Wheeljack. Tried to make it a little toned down.**

**Also, Ratchet = Animated/Prime  
**


	12. A Chance to Start Over

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Note: Short little bit. The ending is pure OC fluff that I couldn't resist. Prepare for fluff to be all over the place. You have been warned! :3**

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It had stopped raining ages ago, and in the commotion Allison hadn't noticed. Her and Ratchet had continued on in silence, or relative silence at least, for Ratchet had been scanning all the different radio channels for any word of a nearby plane crash. With grim confirmation they found that indeed, a few states away a passenger airliner had inexplicably fell out of the sky over the coastline, authorities baffled as to the cause, and not the mention the location of the missing engine. Lots of people had died in that plane, and Allison felt herself sick with the notion that it was somehow her fault. They likely had never seen this Starscream coming, and with the precision and brutality at which he'd taken the plane down they'd never stood a fighting chance.

There had been no warning, no time to even react, it had just been gone. Allison at least hoped that Starscream had had the decency to kill them all before letting them go down in a ball of flames but she somehow doubted it.

And what was worse, was that she felt like she was the only one who actually knew the truth. Maybe, just maybe the government did, but she knew they wouldn't say anything. The radio was talking about malfunction, maintenance problems. Even terrorism, which wasn't entirely far from the truth, but she knew they were missing the mark when they talked about the degree of large-scale threat, not even coming close to the level of danger they were all in. If Starscream was willing to go that far just to scare her, then she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she didn't want to meet him face-to-face. Ratchet must have sensed this, for he'd gone mercifully silent and had let her brood in peace.

Finally they came to a stop at a deserted corner. It was now dark, and the streets were quiet, so Ratchet idled at the traffic light for a few moments before finally speaking. Allison hadn't even realized they'd stopped, for she'd been so lost in her own misery that she hadn't even been paying attention to what was outside the window. Finally Ratchet spoke, which sounded jarring in the silence.

"I thought you'd want to go alone from here..." he said cautiously, his tone much more muted than before. She looked up, realizing with faint surprise they were near the Opex Sun from earlier. Puzzled, but miserable, she got out and looked around.

Wheeljack was sitting alone in his alt mode, parked solemnly across the street from the cafe, just as he had been that morning. In short it looked somehow pathetic, him sitting there all alone on a deserted street, but it only furthered her guilt and her need to apologize. Maybe he'd done this intentionally, sitting here, intent on starting over from earlier in the day before things had started to go so horribly wrong. Wheeljack didn't move or make an outward sign that he knew they were there, but she knew he did, for Ratchet was clearly visible at the intersection. If this was his way of making amends to her and giving her the chance to start fresh, she didn't want to waste it. Perhaps it was also Ratchet's sense of decency to give them at least a little bit of privacy before he went nuclear on Wheeljack for his earlier shenanigans. In either case it didn't matter, for Allison was more than intent on making the best of it.

Allison started to walk towards Wheeljack slowly, but she stopped and turned. Ratchet didn't move, but seemed to be waiting for her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, as if she was making up for all the thanks he'd never gotten. Ratchet only responded with a soft rumble of his engine, then fell silent again. Knowing that was all she was going to get, Allison turned and made the long, silent journey of shame to where Wheeljack was sitting alone. She stopped at his hood, feeling somewhat sick when he didn't automatically open the door, but thinking that perhaps he was waiting for her to say something first. She honestly couldn't think of what to say, so picked something that didn't sound too idiotic.

"How long have you been here?" she asked quietly. She didn't know what she was expecting when he didn't respond right away, but after a few moments of degrading silence where she thought he was never going to speak to her again, he finally answered.

"Six hours," he said, and while his voice was no longer angry, it certainly wasn't cheerful. She felt weird, having an odd, post-argument conversation with a robot disguised as a car, but comparably that wasn't the most off-the wall thing to happen to her that day.

"Oh," she said, surprised that he'd had the patience to wait in one spot so long. Finally after a long time he opened the door. Allison looked at the ground, for fear that Wheeljack could actually see the shame on her face as she slowly walked towards it and got inside. He closed the door, but didn't move right away. She wondered if he was waiting for her to apologize, but for some reason she was too ashamed to do so. It seemed ironic, but she felt too much at fault for it to really matter at this point. Ratchet was still idling at the intersection in front of them, waiting for them to move.

"I hear you had quite an adventurous evening," Wheeljack said, possibly trying to sound encouraging, but whether he meant it or not it sounded faintly chastising. Allison burst into very sudden, noisy tears immediately, the memory of the engine, and all the people who had died just for the sake of some Decepticon's sick amusement, fell very suddenly into the forefront of her mind like a violent lashing. She couldn't stop herself from crying, feeling very foolish doing so while sitting inside him, but unable to stop the sobs from coming.

"I'm... s-sorry...Wh- Wh- ...Wh-Jack, " she choked, her voice muffled by her hands covering her face if only to hide her stricken expression from him. The air inside had seemed to warm, and very clearly Wheeljack spoke.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who is sorry," he said, and the idea that he was taking blame for himself as well only humbled her more. "I shouldn't have talked to you like that, and I shouldn't have let you run off."

Allison choked, now embarrassed as she tried to speak, but her words kept getting jolted around by her own sobbing hiccups. She tried to wipe her eyes, but the tears kept squeezing their way out.

"N-no... I-I acted h-horrible... I sh-shouldn't h-have l-l-left..." she attempted, but the images of all those people, families, mothers, fathers, children, all dead, kept rising up out of the depths of her terror like a reminder of her own unavoidable fate. She tried to stop, but couldn't, and wailed into her own arms as she tried to keep herself quiet, thinking that she was likely driving Wheeljack crazy. "I'm not g-going to survive this," she said, forcing her voice under control finally after she felt her sadness had been relatively purged. She hadn't meant it as a question but it had likely sounded that way.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Wheeljack said very firmly, but quietly as if he was trying to give her some shred of comfort. It didn't really help. She had no real words to answer that for what it really meant, so she kept quiet, trying hard not to burst into tears again. It was hard, so she tried to find some comfort in burying her body into the driver's seat. Wheeljack finally started to move, and Ratchet slid in behind them as they passed.

They didn't drive fast, and Wheeljack remained silent, possibly to give her space, or he just had nothing to say verbally. Allison wondered if he was communicating with Ratchet. She didn't dare ask, but if they were, let them continue on, hoping they weren't talking about her. She knew they probably were anyway. Grinding her teeth, she tried not to feel offended and uncomfortable, but it was hard to not feel left out, especially when the conversation was intentionally kept away from her as if she wasn't there. It only added to her embarrassment and feelings of being utterly foolish.

It was still silent when they arrived back at the barn, and Allison was finally confident that she had her emotions in check. She exited silently as they slid to a stop outside the building, Ratchet pulling in right behind them. It was sort of eerie having another unmanned vehicle in her presence, driving in right behind them as if it had been there all along. And an ambulance of all things. Perhaps it was his vehicle of choice, or just his specific talents, but Allison didn't find herself overly alarmed at this new, very much still alien presence. Granted, she didn't quite know Ratchet enough yet really get a sense of his motivations, but even with the limited time she spent with him, she had to admit that despite all that gruff and roughness, on some strange level he was somewhat likable. Time would tell if those sentiments stayed the same, or if and when he'd inevitably drive her crazy.

They both transformed simultaneously, and Allison tried to sneak away before they noticed her. She mostly wanted to give the two of them a chance to talk, feeling like somewhat of an intrusion now that Ratchet was around and Wheeljack was among his own kind. Assuming they had other important things to talk about, not least of which the matter of Wheeljack's injuries, she tried to stalk away without a word. Blindly Allison tried to tell herself that it wasn't because she didn't have the heart yet to look Wheeljack in the eye, but the more sensible parts of her reasonings knew that was, actually, quite a big motivation for why she was currently trying to disappear behind the side of the building.

"Where do you think you're going?" Ratchet called after her, and she stopped, knowing she was caught and turned. Ratchet had his arms folded with a startled look of annoyance on his face, and Allison tried to focus on him while avoiding looking Wheeljack directly in the eye. It was hard, for she knew he was staring at her. It wasn't hard to see the glare of his eyes pointed in her direction at the corners of her vision, and it was mildly distracting as she tried to look at Ratchet with some measure of confidence. Feeling like she was being sized up, she tried to casually cover her face by rubbing at her cheek, hoping to hide the blotchy redness that still stained her features. Her embarrassment was annoying, but she knew there would be no way to ignore Ratchet.

"I have a date?" she lied stupidly, sarcastically, and didn't even know why she'd said it. She was still a little on edge from the evening's activities, and bit her tongue to keep from saying anything else. Ratchet snorted, glaring at her.

"You're not going anywhere until I'm done with you," he said, and when he noticed that Wheeljack was trying to sneak away, he roared, "Both of you!" Wheeljack froze, and Allison couldn't avoid catching his gaze for just a brief moment, and was surprised to see his eyes sparkling with mirth. She tried to smile back at him but it felt forced.

"First of all," Ratchet began, pointing a very accusatory finger at Wheeljack, who was leaning back to avoid it. "You need to be more careful where you're throwing communications around. Clearly someone was listening that I'm willing to bet you didn't want to be," he snarled, but the reference was clear. Wheeljack looked somewhat wilted, knowing he'd messed up, but that didn't excuse the atrocity that Starscream had committed. But, it was undeniable that he likely wouldn't have known their position had he not been able to intercept the destination of the Autobot messages.

"Second," Ratchet took that same finger and jabbed it right into Wheeljack's chest, causing him to step back. Wheeljack had a hand raised, as if in defeat, but Ratchet was not going to entertain any white flags at the moment. "Perhaps the two of you should stop fighting like a squabbling bonded-pair, because none of this would have happened if you knew when to keep your mouth shut!" Wheeljack was looking slightly harassed now, but was still not defending himself, probably because all of what Ratchet was saying was true. Allison, fearing she was next, continued her venture to scoot around the corner of the barn, but was unsuccessful.

"And third," Ratchet's voice was raised, rounding on Allison just as she was trying to make herself disappear around the shelter of the siding, but felt completely paralyzed by his incessant glare. "Don't run off again. Had Starscream felt the need to throw that engine on you instead of in front of me... well," he started. "I think we all know how that would have turned out." In truth she did, and Allison was in no mood to envision it.

"Is it okay if I go now?" she blurted quickly, feeling exhausted, both from the day, and from her emotional undertakings. It felt like he'd been lecturing her for hours. Ratchet looked at her with a very level gaze.

"You may go."

Allison turned quickly, wanting nothing more than to disappear around the corner, but not entirely sure where she intended to go. She thought that while she was still technically near them, they'd at least let her sit alone without too much fuss. Around the corner she could hear the two of them talking in dangerously aggressive tones, Ratchet yelling something about being inconsiderate, and "disregard for personal safety", and figured Wheeljack was getting a tongue lashing about the much-needed repairs that were to come. As Allison found a place to sit down and quietly reflect, she realized that they were probably very lucky that Ratchet had arrived at all. Their success depended on a speedy recovery, and Wheeljack had said himself that his repairs had been slow. Ratchet had been needed after all.

Finally it was quiet, and had likely been that way for a while before Allison had actually been observant enough to notice that their voices had stopped. There hadn't been any sounds of departing vehicles or otherwise, so where they'd gone was unclear, at least until she felt a very distinct presence to her right. Allison turned and was effectively startled to meet Wheeljack in the face. How he managed to bring his body so low was a source of great curiosity, but the question was going to have to wait till another time. He was looking at her questioningly, and with a distinct air of unease.

"Allison," he began, but hesitated. She looked at him sorrowfully. A gull screamed from somewhere above them and it was loud enough to be an oddly placed interruption. Wheeljack turned to look at it, head turned curiously, but she got the sense that he was actually avoiding the question that was on his mind.

"Do I frighten you?" he asked finally, looking at her very squarely, blue eyes glowing hotly with fear. The question surprised her, first and foremost because it had somewhat been on her mind, but to hear it come straight from him was a little bit of a shock. So much so that she wasn't entirely sure what to say. She wondered if Ratchet had said something to him to suddenly put it on his mind.

"Sometimes," she responded softly, unsure if the answer would hurt his feelings or insult him. After today she wasn't sure anymore. He nodded grimly as if it was the answer he was expecting, and turned with a great sorrowful drone of gears, as if to go. Panicking, she stopped him. "But-"

He paused, looking at her again, this time his eyes gazed down at her fretfully, as if it was she who was the true source of fear. Allison had no clue what was going on in his head but wanted to know, to finally get an idea of what Wheeljack was truly thinking. Even if she could never understand whatever lofty, grandiose thoughts were crossing his mind, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wanted that sad, fearful look on his face to disappear. Even though he wasn't frowning, couldn't frown for lack of the mouth needed for such an exercise, the overall downturn and muted glare of his eyes and the impression of his brow was all that was needed.

"What I mean is... you scared me today. I didn't know what you were going to do," she ventured, trying to at least give him the decency of an explanation that he deserved. "But, you were right," she put her head down, busying herself with the moist weeds around her. "I can't do this alone. I obviously need you." she finished, her face growing hot against the natural chill of the air. "If Ratchet hadn't have been there I'd probably be dead..." She wasn't sure if that was the explanation he wanted, or even if it was enough to satisfy him, for he remained uncharacteristically mute for what had to have been five minutes, or even more. Allison couldn't think of anything else to say, so she tried to occupy herself by pulling out little bits of grass around her. She'd almost thought he'd left, after it stayed distantly quiet for so long, but finally Wheeljack responded.

"I was insensitive to your feelings earlier and I may have chosen some bad words. But... I worry," he said, his panels blinking hesitantly as he spoke. Allison furrowed her brow in an effort to make sense of such a raw display of feelings, and was further awed by the fact that this conversation was happening with a thirty foot tall robot that was kneeling next to her, wringing his hands together anxiously. Allison was surprised to find herself actually smiling.

"It's okay," she said, and Wheeljack seemed all at once to brighten suddenly, like he'd been waiting for that all along. She stood, and tried to brush herself off, her pants now wet from the ground. Purposefully she walked towards Wheeljack who was looking her curiously, more perked up now that a weight seemed to be off his shoulders. Allison beckoned him down, and he tilted his head at her questioningly, but when she insisted, he leaned in close enough for her to have been able to clamour onto his head if she had truly wanted to.

It was probably more of a human instinct, to hug someone that you felt was important or close to you, and case in point that was actually Allison's first thought until it suddenly occurred to her that actually hugging Wheeljack was not exactly a practical endeavor. Plus, she had no way of knowing how he'd actually react to something so intimate, so she froze for a moment caught unawares. Feeling dumb just standing there after he continued to eye her curiously, finally Allison was brave enough to get close enough to rest her forehead against his, her hands lying close to her face against the plating above his brow. He flinched, and it was very quick, almost like a twitch, like he was unsure of what she was doing, or had never been touched by a human in this way before. He relaxed in the next breath with a soft cycle of air.

Allison was surprised to find herself wondering if affection, even in terms of just plain gratitude, really was just a human emotion and nothing more. That thought was almost alarming, and even though Wheeljack was quite warm, it merely accentuated the reality that he was very much a being not of the same species, or even planet, much less one who would be able to understand her human need for any type of meaningful socialization.

That thought occurred to her very suddenly, and feeling stupid all at once she was about to turn away until her knees instinctively locked to keep her body from falling. Wheeljack was leaning into her, almost like a cat burying his head into the face of his human companion, and there was a second of disorienting enthusiasm as Allison had to compensate for his added push. Clearly he wasn't being too overzealous, but Wheeljack was quite massive, and probably didn't know where the boundaries of his strength really were in comparison to her own. He was actually humming pleasantly, and Allison couldn't tell if it was actually coming from him vocally, or internally. She felt it even from beneath her forehead and her palms as it passed through his body like a purr, but it was deeper and more mechanical like a computer whirring to life as it worked.

Despite this electronic quality it was pleasant-happy-and any doubts that it wasn't an emotional response were quickly evaporated by the natural heat of his metal exterior. Wheeljack was pleased, and this was a physical response to his emotional state. It was actually quite soothing in its ethereal capacity, seeming to be a strengthened extension of the natural sounds of his body. It really was a nice escape from the cold air outside, and it was keeping her face warm, but eventually Allison had to pull away because she didn't know how long Wheeljack's joints would allow him to kneel that low. He stayed where he was though, blinking at her lazily, and the vapidness of his expression made the thought occur to her that a nice long nap was a very welcome course of action.

They remained in contemplative silence, and it was only after a few minutes had past that she realized she'd been scratching the plating of his forehead at the base of one of the ridges absently. She froze once she'd realized her error, and Wheeljack looked startled.

"Ah-" she stopped, moving her hand immediately away, assuming he likely hadn't noticed, but his puzzlement proved otherwise.

"Yes, I could feel that. Unfortunately my hands are just too big to get those pesky corners on my head," she would have thought that maybe he was frowning, but his eyes were shining with intent. Allison was shaking her head in disbelief, unable to contain her own amusement. She would have never thought that Wheeljack, a very large robot, would enjoy little skritches on the head, in little places he couldn't reach. She lowered her head and giggled at him, just slightly embarrassed, and feeling very silly for both of them, and it soon turned into full, boisterous laughter. Allison wasn't even sure what was so funny about everything. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the turns her life had made in the last few weeks, or the sheer complexity and otherwise outlandish circumstances that now sat crouched before her looking slightly disappointed that his head was no longer getting scratched. But soon he started to laugh with her, genuine, human laughter, real and something Allison felt as if she hadn't experienced with someone in a very long time.

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**02/27/2011 - More minor changes so far. I feel as though Allison's little freak-out at this juncture is appropriate, considering this is her first brush with what the Decepticon's are capable of.**


	13. Repairs

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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It surprised Allison that the next few weeks flew by with relatively little incident, considering the company she now found herself in. For the most part things had been quiet. Admittedly there wasn't much she could do in the way of helping both Ratchet and Wheeljack out, so she'd mostly kept to herself, more concerned with staying out of their way and not becoming a nuisance. They were busy enough dealing with Wheeljack's injuries, and didn't need her to be a bother and a constant distraction.

Allison herself spent her days either reading in her corner, having grabbed a pile of books from her apartment, or spending time writing her thoughts down on her old journal. She'd spent most of her young life writing on a daily basis, and there had always been the types of things one would expect from a girl growing into a young woman: recent popular trends, whatever boy had caught her eye at the time, music, and just things that had been optimistic at the time. As the entries progressed, following the passage of time they began to turn to the more serious nature of things, all the way up to her most recent blocks of text. Those stood out the most, for obvious reasons. It was the only real place she felt she could speak her mind and express what she was really feeling about everything, Wheeljack included, and wanted to be sure that it was wrought with every detail she could come up with. There was no telling what the future was actually going to hold, and what would happen to either of them, so the documentation felt like a necessity, if not for her, then for whoever came across it. It helped her make sense of what was happening, and soon enough Allison had begun to finally except what was going on as something other than an obscene dream that she would wake up from any moment. It became routine.

Aside from that, Allison had spent some of her days exploring the grounds around the old barn. Regrettably there wasn't much to see. Mostly it was surrounded by wide fields of grasses and weeds, dotted with a tree here or there whose branches were now just starting to go bare with the onset of Autumn. She'd spent some time following the long, broken fence that outlined the edges of whomever's property it had previously been, and was surprised when she came upon the old, cracked foundation of a house. The building itself was long gone, a few bits of wood remained scattered along the warped flooring and she could just barely make out the remains of where the different rooms had been separated. Mostly, it was just the flooring and foundation, floor boards askew and cracked, to reveal darkness beneath. She'd spent some time wandering around it, enjoying the quiet peace around her, and on these days would usually spend most of the evening hours outside until Wheeljack inevitably found her. He'd rarely make his presence known, and it wasn't until she'd either turn around and stumble into him, or catch him out of the corner of her eye, that she'd even know he was there at all. It only accentuated the fact that either she was careless, or he (and she could only assume all of them) was very good at being quiet.

At first they never really talked about much, after all, what was there truly to say. Part of it was her fault for not even knowing how to begin a conversation with him, now that things were relatively quiet and there was more occasion to be alone. If one was under the delusion that being faced with a robotic being from space would fill you with compelling questions, then they were mistaken.

The first real things they talked about in the aftermath was what Starscream had done. Since Wheeljack had not been with her, she'd felt it necessary to share with him the details, despite knowing Ratchet likely already had told him everything. Allison had to assume that the engine had been found, it having landed on a relatively busy road during the day, but without true access to any sort of TV or radio she had no way of knowing. Obviously there would be questions as to how the engine had made it there, but there would be nobody to give the answers. Even though she assumed Wheeljack already knew, he'd listened to her reveal how she felt about it silently, and the only thing he'd really said in response, was that "he would pay." There still was no telling if he would make his presence known again, as since then nothing of immediate danger had occurred at least that she was aware of. However at this point she still found herself watching every single airplane that flew over head with an air of unease. Could any one of them be him? Her only reassuring thought, was that if any of them were, she likely wouldn't even see it before it was too late.

Soon enough after a week or so went by she'd found herself grow more comfortable in Wheeljack's presence, and it had begun to get a lot easier to figure out how to spark up a conversation with him. They were able to talk about a variety of things, like the different names of birds and other wildlife that inhabited the fields around them. She'd even spent a great deal of time pointing out to him the names of the different mountains she could actually remember, faded and just barely tipped with white splotches of snow in the distance.

After a while it became that much easier to speak of more personal things, and while most of it was her sharing stories about her life, on very rare occasions Wheeljack would speak of Cybertron. He still never spoke much about his past other than broad general topics, the stories occasionally focusing on a specific time period, but for the most part he told her about Cybertron itself. It was hard for her to imagine such a place, built entirely of planes of metal, constructs and dwellings reaching high into the atmosphere, much larger than anything she could have ever imagined. Trying to picture the sheer scope of the crowded, symmetrical metropolitan sprawls, what was made very clear is that they never slept. Things were always moving, it was always full of life, and light, and activity. There was hardly a stretch of "street" or "pathway" that was deserted, but when the war began that had changed. Wheeljack never spoke of the war, so that was where the stories normally ended: when Megatron had attempted to overthrow their government and take control. That was the beginning of the end.

During one of Wheeljack's rare, more personal narrations, Allison finally learned exactly why Wheeljack's face was covered. This finally laid to rest why Wheeljack had gotten so defensive on their first evening together when she'd brought up the topic of injuries. He never admitted this to be the reason, but with the graveness in which she spoke, Allison was able to put two and two together and come to that conclusion on her own.

He explained to her that once the war had started, the necessity to protect the more delicate pieces of their faces had become apparent, so every Cybertronian involved in the war had adapted with altering certain pieces of their external "helmet" into battle masks. Wheeljack merely kept his in place at all times, the reason for that being, as he stated quite simply, that Starscream had grown tired of his face and had wished to make it more "acceptable". It had apparently been one of the mentioned rare times where the two of them had directly crossed paths. It was hard to imagine what kind of pain or fear he must have gone through, having his face carved into by such a demented maniac, so it was the first time she felt a mild stir of pity for him.

At first Allison didn't have the faintest idea how to respond to that, Wheeljack's tone being so direct as to make her think he regarded the deformed scarring of his face as nothing more than an inconvenience. But she had to wonder if that wasn't his pride showing through, and the mask was a bandage to cover up the damage that he was now ashamed of. It had clearly bothered him before, so Allison was not fooled by his seeming indifference. Deep down, she knew there was a reason why he kept it covered, and she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

Wheeljack's modesty about it, as she came to learn over the past weeks, was a source of great annoyance for Ratchet.

The medic himself did not spend every waking moment around Wheeljack, and sometimes had even disappeared for days at a time. Ratchet would stay for long stretches that blurred together, all of which were spent switching between unparalleled fury and frustrated doting whilst nursing his patient back to health. Wheeljack would stand, or sometimes lie on his back on the "worktable", uncharacteristically motionless for hours on end. The constant fear of finding a shard of metal jammed into his head should he so much as twitch likely contained the natural impulses to squirm. Ratchet was not afraid to hurl venomous threats when he thought Wheeljack was being too fidgety, and while Allison had no idea what stringing one's plasma conduction nodes with live electric terra-coil meant, but she had a feeling it couldn't be too pleasant.

Allison had tried hard to avoid them during these periods of repair, and those were usually the times that she'd wandered around outside. This was done mostly out of fear of finding a car part hurled in her direction when Wheeljack wouldn't sit still. Sometimes Ratchet would mention the face mask and chastise him for not allowing him to survey the damage, but Wheeljack never responded, and if he did have the courage to say something, he would change the subject. Usually at that point Wheeljack's movements would interrupt whatever Ratchet had been doing at the time, and the subject would quickly be forgotten in his fury.

The repairs went quickly, but despite that, there was never really a period of time that Ratchet hung around long enough to have a conversation with him. Allison was surprised to find this mildly hurtful, for she had to wonder if he even cared to talk to her at all. While Wheeljack was obviously somewhat clueless in any social respects, he was still curious, whereas Ratchet seemed completely oblivious to her being there period, much less pay attention to her long enough to say a word to her. During the periods that he was around, he was generally so focused on fixing Wheeljack, that there was never a moment when he wasn't mumbling to himself or yelling. Wheeljack was quite squirmy, and Allison had found that when she was in the room, he was very easily distracted. So not wanting to cause anymore ruckus than necessary, as Wheeljack seemed perfectly capable of doing that on his own, she'd usually snuck out.

Today however, was the first time that Ratchet decided to hang around, and it was because of a certain envelope that he did so. Today had been a day where things had finally been quiet enough for Allison to actually remember having gone to the post office, so it was with that thought in mind, she'd pulled out the envelope from underneath her pillow. She'd opened it quickly, feeling two pairs of very impatient eyes above her, hoping beyond hope that it was actually something important, for she was going to feel very stupid with them staring at her if it was just a bill.

Thankfully it wasn't a bill at all, but a thick advertisement postcard for the Sealth City Municipal Bank. At first, she was confused, not entirely sure why she was looking at a photo of the outside of a bank, but once she realized that it was much heavier than it should have been, she turned it over only to find a small brass key taped to the underside. It had a number imprinted on its face that read "3757", which at first had no significance until she realized what the key actually was.

"It's a safety deposit box…" she murmured, pulling it off the back of the postcard with ease. Bits of tape remained stuck to the key, and she struggled trying to pick it all off with her finger nails. The two Autobots were still standing above here unmoving.

"Which is?" Clearly the voice of Ratchet, although she was too focused on peeling the tape off the key to look up.

"It's like some kind of lockbox. Banks have them so that people can stash important stuff in there, which can only be accessed by whoever is in possession of the key…" she explained, finally satisfied with her clean-up job. She held the key up to them. Looking at the number again, she found it vaguely familiar, like it represented something she should find important but she couldn't place it. Squinting, Allison pulled it back and continued to turn it around in her hands. "…But, I don't have a deposit box, so someone else sent this to me…"

"Then what does that mean?" Wheeljack asked, now dutifully involved with something on his arm.

"It means that someone wants me to get into this deposit box... but there's no return label on the envelope...and," Allison stopped, looking at the key, staring at the numbers embossed into it intently. The number was nagging at her brain, and what made it all the more frustrating was that it was obviously something she'd known at one time, but had since forgotten. She racked her brain, thinking hard on what significance it should have, if it had anything to do with Doctor Arkeville, then-

"It's the combination to get into his office," she whispered, more to herself then to the robots standing above her. They heard her regardless, and Ratchet snorted indignantly.

"How quaint-"

"No, no, I mean, Doctor Arkeville made a point of telling me when he changed it... just a few weeks before he disappeared... you see, his own personal office is in a separate room and its locked, with a key pad. Only I knew that combination.. that's what this number is... he told me that for a reason..." she gulped, the enormity of what this was finally setting in. Optimus Prime had been right. He would reach out to her after all, and the only thing that made Allison faintly resent it, was that it now put her officially in the middle of it. The anticipation of potentially being contacted was different, the very real threat seemingly far off and only a possibility, but now-

"And this means it might be a pretty good idea to go and get whatever is in this lockbox..."  
Wheeljack looked down at her, his eyes glittering mischievously, but all Allison could think of was how this was likely going to turn into a giant goose chase. "I'm convinced," Wheeljack finished simply. Ratchet turned and narrowed his eyes at him scornfully. "Don't worry you old clod, you can take your nap as soon as we're done..."

"Who said anything about me going?" Ratchet growled. Allison frowned up at him, thinking it rather insulting that Ratchet wanted no part in this, but he didn't notice her. He was too busy glaring at Wheeljack, who had his arms folded across his chest looking quite pleased with himself.

"Well since you're here..." Wheeljack countered, sounding quite convinced of his own brilliance.

"Since I'm .. here?" Ratchet grumbled in a direct reiteration of Wheeljack's seemingly simple explanation as if he couldn't quite believe it. Allison tried to get their attention by clearing her throat, trying to be as discreet as possible, but felt foolish when the two of them froze once again and looked down at her. She didn't think she'd ever get used to having two giant robots stare down their nose plates at her.

"So, can we all try to come to a consensus as to what exactly he's trying to tell me?" Allison was still trying to come up with any rational explanation as to why this was happening, but was coming up blank. Never, ever, had Doctor Arkeville mentioned anything this unusual.

"Like I said to you before, we don't know what this actually is..." Wheeljack cycled air, frustrated. This still just didn't make any sense to Allison.

"Well, that just seems completely irresponsible!" If they knew he had something so important, then why the hell did they let him up and disappear like that? It was just plain stupid. If whatever this was, was important enough to warrant an entire faction of violent, warmongering robots to come after her, she had to think that it would have been more time-efficient to have some sort of contingency plan, but apparently that never crossed their minds.

"Here's the thing..." Ratchet said, eyeing Allison cooly. "Before he went and made himself nicely hidden from our radars, he came to us with the revelation that he had stumbled across some information that has extreme importance to us."

"Like?" Allison huffed impatiently.

"We don't know," said Wheeljack, glancing at Ratchet with a raised brow ridge. "You see it never occurred to him to tell us. That's all he ever said. 'Something of great importance.' Optimus seems to think its worth investigating, so here we are..."

"But.. that just doesn't make sense, why would he tell you, only to turn around and disappear?"

"We don't know Allison," Ratchet said irritably. "But that's why instead of throwing you to the frenzy, we're here to find out. Personally I think it's all a bunch of nonsense... the man probably figured out how to break open a roto-clam-"

"Which in itself is a marvellous feat-"

"Shut up Wheeljack," he barked, pausing, "That's why we're here at all. If the Decepticons want it, then rest assured it's something that can be used to do great harm, regardless of what it may be..." Ratchet finished, ignoring Wheeljack who had now decided it was his turn to do the glaring. He eventually got tired of the endeavour and looked back down at Allison hopefully.

"We get to play chauffeur again?"

"Apparently so, with an ambulance escort," Allison couldn't stop herself from cracking a small smile, especially since Ratchet looked none too pleased with the prospect that his day was already planned for him.


	14. Seismic

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Note: Once again I appreciate all the comments thus far. It means a lot.**

**Initially this chapter was piece of a much bigger section but felt it was much too long to post in one stretch, so I've cut it down into two separate chapters. That would explain why it might seem to break at such a weird spot. Enjoy!**

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The bank wasn't entirely much to look at, despite being one of the largest financial institutions in the city. The exterior was nothing more then a completely bland concrete facade, the front entrance deep set into the building behind a series of large, square pillars made from the same grayish concrete that dominated the entire structure. Brightly colored flags were the only sources of distraction from the otherwise mindlessly dull vision, and they fluttered cheerfully against the chilled breeze. Allison looked on silently, shoving her hands deep into her pockets, fingering the key with her right hand as if paranoid it would disappear. Wheeljack and Ratchet had decided it would be more sensible to hang back in order to not draw attention to her, after all, a race car and an ambulance sitting together were far from unnoticeable.

So, Allison had been forced to walk several blocks on her own to the bank, reminded by a text message from Wheeljack that regardless of her distance they were still watching her should another airplane engine decide to fall from the sky. While the sentiment was endearing, the image of that repeated horror was not something she wanted to see, especially in an area that was significantly more busy. She found herself glancing at all the people who passed her, faintly envying them for all their ignorance. They just went about their lives, day to day, unaware and oblivious to the war that raged around them, certainly unaware that they could become a part of it at any second. Like the people on that airplane. They'd become casualties without ever having a chance to know what it was they'd died for.

But, she felt a mild stir of guilt as the last rush of envy left her mind. Would she really trade that all in to return to her seemingly insignificant existence; Barely a blip on the radar of what was called the Planet Earth. She'd met Wheeljack, and that in itself she had to consider as something she was grateful for. Even Ratchet, unbearable as he was, had his own charms to him, and Allison was starting to find it hard to convince herself that she would be happier if Wheeljack had never entered her life. It wasn't just this whole mess, that in its own unforgiving way, gave her some sense of worth or purpose. The robots themselves, as unique and boisterous as they were, made her feel like she was actually a part of something. She was starting to truly appreciate Wheeljack's eccentricities, and his glittering eyes when he was up to something mischievous or downright dangerous. These people would never experience that, and now, she thought she almost pitied them, instead of herself.

The glass doors to the bank swung open as a group of smartly attired business people came shuffling out, their briefcases swaying as they walked. Feeling suddenly out of place, Allison snuck past them just as the door was starting to shut behind her, making note of the security desk just as she walked in. The main entrance was separate from the bank itself, a much smaller room with a wide, panelled counter, behind which sat a rather board looking police officer staring at a wide variety of television screens in front of him. He looked up at her as she walked by, and realizing she was staring she quickly glanced away and tried to look like she'd been studying the entire room.

A series of archways led into the main room of the bank itself, and as she passed through she was instantly awed by the sheer scale and splendor of it all. The main gallery was massive, the ceiling high and arched, cut from pure white marble and inlaid with delicate relief along the edges. It looked expensive, and the ridiculously overdressed bank clerks only added to the sense that Allison was definitely not in her element. They sat behind their large desks, rich, shining oak, chatting with all manner of clientele man and woman alike. Feeling self-conscious, she walked up to the main counter, which was unnecessarily high, and met the face of young, female bank teller, dressed completely in black and wearing more makeup than Allison thought possible.

"How may I help you?" she asked, and the girl was nice enough, if not a little too young to be in a place as high-class as this was. She had to have been more than a few years younger than Allison, and considering that she herself was barely in her twenties that was surprising. Allison pulled the key from her pocket, and the girl's expression wavered just slightly.

"I have this key, and I'd like to open my deposit box please," Allison said, now suddenly worried that they weren't going to let her and she was going to set off some kind of alarm. The girl pulled back a strand of her dark hair and tucked it behind her ear, taking it from Allison with delicately manicured fingers. She looked at her slightly envious, but realizing that was the superficial female in her she did her best to dismiss it, focusing on the task at hand. Normally Allison remembered that in cases where deposit boxes were opened, they normally just grabbed the key and took you in the back, but this time that apparently was not to be the case. Either Doctor Arkeville didn't get the memo that something had changed, or she was hoping that he'd prepared for it, because as the girl started typing away at her keyboard Allison started to get faintly nervous.

"Name?" the girl asked, looking at her expectantly. Allison had to wonder if something was about  
go horribly wrong.  
"Um, it's Allison Teeghan."

The girl bit her lip with worry, and gave her the oddest expression.

"Um, that's not the name I have here registered to this deposit box-"

"Wait, what do you mean you don't have that name? That's the name I gave you idiots when I registered this box," Allison thought, that maybe if she put on a show, she'd get this girl to crumble and let her pass. That however, was not to happen, and Allison couldn't even believe the reason why...

"Well, what I have here is Allison Jackson..."

"What?"

Jackson?

Wheeljack.

Damn you Herbert Arkeville...

"Well that's just not right at all..." Allison growled, trying to mask her frustrated embarrassment by looking irate, hoping that maybe it would get her some where, but knowing that it wouldn't. She didn't know how far she could push her luck before she started to make a scene, so she stood there, chewing her lip trying to come up with something to say.

"Um, is that a second name, a surname, married name or-"

"-Certainly not," Allison cut in, wondering how on Earth Doctor Arkeville had had the foresight to even know about Wheeljack, much less think she'd be able to get into a safety deposit box that was registered to some name he'd just decided to pull out of his ass. The man was either completely out of his mind at the time, or had thought he was being clever, but how on earth was she supposed to get what he apparently wanted her to have, unless-

Shit.

"I'm very sorry Ma'am, but I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding, I mean, you have the key right... unfortunately if you don't have ID listing this name then I won't be able to grant access to this safety deposit box, but," she said, handing Allison back the key and reaching down underneath the counter. She pulled out a card with a phone number on it, and a couple of paragraphs of information on it that Allison had no interest in reading. "...If you call this number they can verify your identity and change the name registered to the deposit box," she said, circling the 800 number printed on the card. Allison thanked her and took the card, said a half-hearted goodbye, and felt like a fool as she walked back out to the main entrance way. She was irritated, beyond irritated that Arkeville would have had the audacity to even consider that Allison would have the means to get into the bank in a more creative fashion. One that meant circumnavigating the bureaucracy, and perhaps, committing a few felonies in the process. But, as she walked out, shoving the key back into her pocket and throwing the card immediately into the trash, she was thoroughly convinced that he meant for her to break in.

"Damn it," she cursed to herself, turning back out onto the sidewalk to head towards where Wheeljack and Ratchet were waiting. She got about 15 feet down the sidewalk before all at once, a massive tremor rocked the sidewalk below her, throwing people and cars up from the asphalt and back to the ground with a thunderous crunch of rendering architecture.

Earthquake? She thought wildly, the notion not at all preposterous as earthquakes were not a foreign danger to Sealth City. They'd been talking about the big one for years, almost to the point that nobody took the possibility seriously anymore. Allison had been through a couple earthquakes in her lifetime to know what it felt like to be in one, but something about this one felt off.

Judging by the startled faces of everyone around her, Allison wasn't the only person confused in the sudden mess. She, along with almost everyone on the street, was pitched forward onto the ground, stumbling as her knees buckled with the jerking rise of the concrete below her. She hit the pavement hard, disoriented, the aftermath a cacophony of panicked screams and resonating car alarms. The auditory chaos reverberated off the glass and building faces, creating a confusing symphony or blaring noise. Looking around, Allison clawed at the ground underneath her, adrenaline now high and heart thudding uncomfortably against the concrete beneath her body. It took almost a full minute for the throngs of confused, scared people to start stirring and make sense of what happened, Allison among them, thinking that the event had passed. Until it happened again.

This time, the sheer blast of the quake that rocked the street was so unexpected it was like the explosion of a jet engine firing only inches from her ear. Panicked, she covered her ears, trying to stand, knowing now that this was not just an ordinary earthquake, and something was about to go very, very wrong. Now people were screaming, glass was falling, cars and street-side windows were vibrating and shattering in glittering explosions of crystalline shrapnel. Allison didn't quite know what was happening around her, fearful, and knowing that she needed to get back to the Autobots, but there was so much destruction raining down from above that she would never make it without falling or getting killed by glass. Instead, she dove underneath the nearest table outside a trendy French cafe, whose patrons had long since fled into the street with uproarious horror.

Allison didn't know how long she was there, clinging to the table while trying to cover her head, trying to drown out the screams and sounds of the carnage around her. She hoped, prayed, that the building around her didn't decide to fall, and wondered with dread and a horrific longing just where Wheeljack was and if he'd come to save her from this. But before she could even think further, it was over.

Allison was trembling, and she remained where she was, still clinging to the cold iron leg of the table she was cowering under. Once it seemed like the glass had stopped falling, she managed to peel herself away from it, crawling back out onto the sidewalk, wincing at the glass beneath her palms and against her knees. The glass and debris crunched underneath her boots as she stood, coughing as she tried to look around through the mild haze of dust that had engulfed the busy inner-city roadway. People were running around, looting, crying, some of them bleeding, and it was only at the moment when she first saw the glimmering crimson splashed across some woman's face that she realized her own face was bleeding. Clawing at her hair, she felt glass, and bits of grime come loose, slicing at her scalp as she tried to dust everything out in a mild frenzy. Her right temple was bleeding, and she could feel it hot down her cheek, and with numb fingers traced it back down her neck where it had started to soak into her collar.

Disgusted, and silently hysterical, she tried to stop the bleed, but the cut stung like acid. Abandoning that endeavor, Allison hastily tried cleaning her hands against her clothes, smearing blood all over her in the process. Looking around, she didn't see Wheeljack, or Ratchet, but heard sirens, and this was probably more terrifying than the earthquake itself. Where was Wheeljack? Where was Ratchet for that matter? She was confused and disoriented, and needed them-

Behind her down the street, an impact of some kind as another uproar of panic eruptet. Allison turned, grabbing onto the nearest car for support and saw what instantly made her entire body go numb. Not even a block away, one lone car was literally forcing its way through the stalled traffic and throngs of people, bodies flung out of the way in an attempt to escape yet another potential death. This car was in some kind of hurry, smashing through everything that stood in its way, and Allison watched it with wondrous horror as it started to drift in her direction. It was shinning maliciously, blue and rimmed with gold, one angular, angry looking crest on its grill that even without being familiar with it she instantly put it into place. She stood in a kind of daze, watching as this car barrelled through what remained of its obstacles. She didn't know if she was supposed to run, or what she could do. There was no way she could get through this crowd much less outrun this car. But it was closing in fast, and it was big, powerful engine roaring angrily.

MOVE!

The only thing that came to her in those last final seconds was certainly not the best of ideas, but given the circumstances, it was the only one she had. Gritting her teeth she threw her body back into the open doorway of the cafe, smashing to the ground with unforgiving force just as an arrow of pure white shot past. It skimming the car she'd only just been standing beside a moment ago with a furious shower of sparks, bursting out from the side of the dormant vehicle with a dangerous klang of impact. Allison turned around and managed to lift herself up just in time to see Wheeljack, his wheels spinning with increasing fury, intercept this new beast with brutal accuracy, metal crunching as the two behemoths collided. The force of the hit drove them viciously back the way the new vehicle had come, sending bystanders scattering and bits of wreckage whirling around as the cars continued to grapple for dominance.

Allison managed to stand up, and she fled, hesitating long enough to watch as the two cars reached some kind of stalemate. Wheeljack's wheels were grinding against the street with an ear-splitting squeal. The roaring of their engines drowned out all noise, and as people fled from the violent brawl between the two vehicles, Allison had no choice but to follow the crowd. It was a disjointed mass of moving bodies, everyone bumping into each other and everything around them.

Allison managed to break away from the crowd and slice through into the next intersection, just in time to see a red and white ambulance, its sirens blaring, come barrelling down the road towards her. Her first instinct was to assume it had been called to the scene, and she was about to jump out of its path, but she realized quickly that it was much too soon for it to have arrived this fast. She continued to sprint forward, her heart beating fast, hoping she wasn't making a mistake. Her hunch was cemented when the vehicle suddenly braked and spun around effortless, back doors reading "Medic One" flying open to greet her. She knew without a shadow of a doubt it was Ratchet.

The floor of his compartment was high, but Allison had enough momentum to throw her body in, landing hard just as he slammed the two back doors shut behind her, bright red and white lights enveloping her. In the next instant Ratchet was tearing off down the street. She felt her weight lean to one side as Ratchet swung around and headed back the way he came. Through the walls, she could hear the muffled wail of his sirens trying to clear a path through whatever traffic and remaining carnage was still in their way.

"W-what-" her words stumbled as she tried to scramble to a stand, but her body was pressed against the floor both from gravity and her own terror. It was only then she realized that her head was hurting, her body feeling fuzzy and distant as if she wasn't even attached to it anymore. She tried to grab onto one of the bench-like "beds" against the side of the compartment, but she slipped and ended up again on the floor. Curling her body, she buried her head in her arms to try and drown out the noise, still disoriented in the chaos.


	15. The Calm After the Storm

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
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"Are you hurt?" Ratchet's voice was firm and echoed clearly above the shrieking of the sirens. Allison didn't know where they were going, and was further disheartened that she didn't know what was happening with Wheeljack. He'd intervened at the right moment, but she'd been forced to flee, leaving him behind with whatever that monster was; clearly Decepticon.

Why… why now?

"I… I….no…" she managed, her voice feeling alien to her. Ratchet's engine lurched, roaring as he turned. Isolated in his back compartment it was hard to tell what direction they were travelling in, and she was starting to grow mildly motion sick. Biting her tongue, clinging to herself tightly she resigned to force down the bile that was threatening to rise to her throat. Now would not have been a good time-

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?

"Well you're bleeding all over me for a start."

Shocked, she looked around, and the space around her head was decorated with smeared trails and lone droplets of red. Allison choked, using her sleeve she tried to wipe up the mess, her body sliding forward as Ratchet came to a sudden stop. His back doors popped open, and feeling like she couldn't fight the urge to throw up anymore she scrambled out, stumbling at the edge, and she fell down into what was forgiving grass. Coughing, nearly gagging, the need to purge thankfully passed, but nearly a second later she felt something very firm and angular wrap tightly around her waist and mid-section. Screaming, she nearly lost her mind as she was hoisted into the air unceremoniously, flailing and kicked at what she could now see was a very large, red hand.

"Hey, let me go!" she hollered, struggling with Ratchet as he dumped her, back first into his other hand. "What are you doing-stop!" Allison didn't even know why she was fighting him, she knew he wasn't a threat to her, but the sudden sensation of being grabbed and lifted into the air by a large robotic hand had thrown her into complete disarray. Ratchet seemed uninterested in obliging her pathetic attempts to keep him at bay, and he pressed his other hand against her, pinning her arms down to stop her from struggling.

"Do you really want me to drop you? Because if you keep flailing like this you're going to end up a very broken pile on the ground, and it won't be the ground that breaks you," he said, and his command, while firm, surprisingly wasn't threatening. It was at least clear in the haze of her mind that he wouldn't hurt or drop her, so Allison stopped squirming and finally went limp against his hand. She was aware enough to notice that Ratchet had her nearly at eye level. He was walking, and her body moved up and down evenly with the smoothness of his gait. She didn't entirely like where he had her, but knowing she didn't have a choice it was senseless to fight him. He lifted his hand, and with thumb and forefinger Ratchet suddenly and purposefully grabbed her head.

Allison jerked with newly suppressed horror, sudden irrational fears that he was about to break her neck or pull her head off filled her mind. She latched onto his finger, and made meager attempts to push him away, but it was like trying to move a bulldozer. He was twisting her head to the side, exposing her sticky, caked cheek that was dried over with blood. She whimpered, but otherwise didn't dare move, though she didn't have much option as it was like having her head stuck in a clamp. Her shoulders ached from the pressure.

"Superficial laceration, you'll be fine," he said abruptly, letting go of her head. "Although any deeper it would have needed proper mending," he added, grunting. "You squishy things get injured so easily. It's a wonder you don't break in half when you fall down." He moved his hand towards his chest, holding her against his panels as if cradling her. This was an entirely foreign aspect of Ratchet's personality that had seemingly come out of left field, and what was all the more curious is that she would have never assumed he'd know anything about human anatomy or doctoring, but he apparently did.

"I can walk you know…" she said faintly, turning her head just enough to see the ground moving below her. Suddenly the grass rose up to meet her, and that familiar floating sensation encompassed her as Ratchet knelt down, depositing her onto the ground. She stumbled, but finally felt more or less calmed down. Her face felt a little flushed from the speed of Ratchet's movements, and a little nauseous, though it soon passed. "The next time you decide to pick me up off the ground like a cat, how about you ask me first?" she said, dusting herself off, now very conscious of the dried blood on her clothing.

He eyed her cautiously, and in the most extraordinary of instances, he smiled. It was more a smirk, an uncomfortable twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it was obvious. Then a second later it disappeared, and he was back to scowling.

"Well? Did you get what was in that box?" he was eyeing her expectantly, and she bit her lip with nerves. She'd forgotten all about that deposit box, and her woeful misadventure at failing to actually obtain what was inside. After everything that had happened, she was actually afraid to tell Ratchet she'd been unsuccessful.

"Um… about that…" she started, and winced as Ratchet frowned very deeply. "Look, they wouldn't let me okay? The box wasn't registered to me because apparently my boss thought he'd be funny and register it under a clever interpretation of what it would be like if Wheeljack and I exchanged wedding vows…" she said with some bitterness, offended that after all that, he'd still be so concerned with that stupid box.

"What?" Ratchet clearly didn't understand the nuance, and she was in no mood to explain it to him.

"Forget it, that's beside the point. The fact is, I couldn't get it, so I have to assume that my boss figured we'd get in another way." She said.

"So we break in then," Ratchet said simply, and she was surprised to hear him come to that conclusion so easily and with very little thought put into it.

"You say that as if it's so simple," she sighed, thinking that she'd never get used to how easily they seemed to manoeuvre around every single security measure humans had spent so much time perfecting.

"Why don't we discuss this when Wheeljack gets back…" he said, and with her thoughts suddenly turning to him, she grew worried and uneasy.

"Where is he anyway?" she asked. His absence just felt wrong.

Ratchet jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. "Wheeljack had to be sure he wasn't followed, but he should be on his way back by now…"

"Is he… okay?" she asked timidly, afraid of the answer. She recalled the image of him slamming front first into that other blue car, its body larger than his, not even hesitating as they both struggled to gain the upper-hand. She didn't know what had transpired after she ran, and was afraid that an all out confrontation had followed, and possibly not the 4-wheeled kind.

"He says he's fine, but that remains to be seen…" Ratchet added, and he looked like he was going to start shooing her into the barn, until she noticed the far off glare of headlights in the distance. Judging by the rate at which the lights were growing larger, and the increase in noise, Wheeljack was coming in fast, and something gave her the impression that he was not pleased.

"There," Allison said, pointing. Ratchet stood and turned, folding his arms just as Wheeljack sliced to his right, sliding in sideways. He transformed angrily mid-slide, momentum pushing him forward a few steps as he sidestepped Ratchet before beginning to pace back and forth madly. Allison had to take a few steps back, unsure of what she was truly seeing, but not wanting to get in the way. This was the first time she'd seen Wheeljack truly, incredibly, furious. This was not irritation, or something that could be communicated simply with a poignant glare, as she was used to Wheeljack doing when he was annoyed or even mildly upset. It was not what he would communicate with words either. He was overwhelmingly livid, the panels on his head actually buzzing a very deep, angry red as he emitted a string of very foreign electronic curses. Ratchet did not react, but merely watched him vent as he continued to pace. Thankfully, Wheeljack didn't appear damaged from what she could tell, but fear of his possible wrath kept her at bay. Finally his flaming suddenly and abruptly cut back into English,

"Frag… Of all the pitispawned, slag-spewing—"

"Wheeljack," Ratchet cut into his ranting forcibly. "Allison says she was unable to get at the deposit box."

As if Allison didn't feel stupid enough already, her dread only added to her unsurpassed feelings of uselessness as Wheeljack suddenly stopped his pacing and met her straight in the eye. She turned and glared at Ratchet, who was seemingly unaffected.

"Traitor."

She looked back at Wheeljack, whose expression was unreadable, but just to be safe she took a few steps back. There was a few seconds of tense silence, while Allison tried to fumble with an explanation as to why, before Wheeljack's expression did a complete one-eighty. His eyes went wider than she would have thought possible, as if he'd just seen a ghost.

"Um…. I'm sorry?" she added stupidly, taking his shocked expression as something that would be angry, but in the next second he'd literally launched himself in her direction. Horrified that there was a thirty-foot tall robot now lunging himself at her, she tried to step back but fell. It was like watching a labrador charge at you full speed, assuming it was 30-feet tall and made out of metal.

"Sorry? You could have been killed!" he cried, any traces of anger completely washed from his face as Allison tried to fend off yet another hand that was coming at her. Wheeljack scooped her up, and to her dismay, deposited her onto his shoulder, right next to the very massive weapon he carried. It was almost like it was mocking her, as she wedged herself between his face and where his speech panel began on that side. It only felt slightly safer being able to press herself against something, but she wasn't exactly thrilled to be so close to something that could very well explode at any moment. Not to mention that despite his size, there wasn't exactly a lot of room on the ledge his upper body created. If he were to just slightly lean over or get careless, she just knew that she would slide right off him. "That was too close... far too close..." Wheeljack seemed to be talking to himself.

"Wheeljack put her down," Ratchet said, cycling air roughly. "I already scanned her over, she's fine…" Allison felt mildly annoyed and violated by this revelation. thinking that maybe it would have been appropriate to ask her before doing so. But she gathered that even if she'd have said no it wouldn't have stopped him.

Wheeljack was apparently ignoring Ratchet, for he turned his attention to Allison and began pacing again. It was weird sitting at that vantage point and being merely a passenger, and what had brought on this sudden urge to cling she didn't have the faintest clue. As Allison couldn't exactly jump down on her own, she didn't exactly have a choice. She just had to hope that Wheeljack wouldn't suddenly have a lapse in concentration and forget she was there entirely. She noted that Ratchet seemed to be watching them very closely…

"Why would they not take the key from you?" he asked, his panels no less muted despite her sitting directly next to it. She felt the slight burst of heat hit her back with each blip of light as he spoke.

"Because, he registered the box under a different name, and they wouldn't let me get into it… I'm thinking he did that on purpose."

"What name would that be?" She was surprised that Wheeljack took any interest in it. She snorted,

"He had my last name as 'Jackson'"

Wheeljack chuckled, but altogether didn't seem entirely surprised, apparently understanding the connection. But to her dismay, he seemed just as unhindered as Ratchet with their newest roadblock.

"So then we go in and take it!" he said gleefully, clasping his hands together. "How exciting!" His eyes were narrowed as if he was smiling, but Allison didn't quite share the same sentiments.

"You do realize that breaking into a bank is near impossible right? You also realize that for the most part, law enforcement frowns upon that quite heavily…"

"Maybe for a human, Al. But not when you have 30 feet of solid Wheeljack providing the means." Wheeljack responded smoothly, pointing at his own chest for emphasis. The way they both seemed so off-handed about it was startling, as if breaking into banks was something they practiced on a daily basis.

"I'm thinking it likely that by registering it under a different name, it was an attempt to elude any red flags should the Decepticons be watching," Ratchet said. "So instead he relied on you to follow through and make that connection…"

"We'll wait till nightfall, and at least one piece of good fortune has come out of that quake from earlier. Many of the roads in that area will be blocked off, giving us easy access and just that much more cover." Wheeljack added, fingering absently at the mask across his face.

Allison sighed, knowing with a faint beating of dread in her mind that it was obviously her who'd have to walk into the bank and do the stealing. Before she could question any further or even put up a protest, Wheeljack was walking back into the darkness of the barn. It was even more alarming being up at that height in near blackness, the two pairs of their eyes providing the only source of light. It was a relief when the basement door opened, spilling its glow into the bare open room.

Wheeljack gingerly grabbed her, and knelt down to release her back down to the ground so that he could transform. Ratchet did the same, but they both appeared to be waiting for her to go down before they did, so turning she hurried back down into the safety of the makeshift lab. Questions still unanswered from what had just happened, she didn't even wait for them to transform before blurting her thoughts.

"Is anyone going to tell me what happened?" she asked timidly, and it was Ratchet who finished transforming first. Wheeljack looked like it was slightly more difficult, labouring just a little bit more with his movements as he stumbled the last few steps. This didn't escape Ratchet's notice, who immediately grabbed him and appeared to start scanning with a panel that slid out of his right forearm. Wheeljack for a brief moment looked surprised and irritated, but didn't brush him off. Instead he looked down at her, his gaze just a little bit on the worried side.

"That was not a normal seismic event, in fact, the planet was not responsible for that at all," he said, and feeling like Wheeljack had merely restated the obvious she tried to press him further.

"I know that much, but I mean, what?" she continued. Ratchet, who seemed satisfied that his previous work had not been for naught, stopped scanning and looked at her narrowly.

"We should have seen it coming, but Wheeljack here," he said, pointing at the other robot who was currently trying to escape Ratchet's vicinity. "-thought he'd be a hero and drive off as soon as one suspicious distraction presented itself. But it was obvious what was happening, and at the time I had no choice but to follow him. We weren't aware that it was meant as a decoy…"

"It's like you're purposely trying to talk in riddles. I'm not stupid. So you were both purposely led away by someone, clearly, but what you haven't answered is who," Allison countered. Ratchet and Wheeljack exchanged quick, knowing glances, but it was Wheeljack who answered her.

"The 'who' is plural, for what caused the earthquake was none other than that little glitch Rumble. He was obviously trying to distract us; to cause a little bit of disorganization in order to go after what was truly the directive," he said, and then, as if pausing for emphasis, he stopped briefly.

"Which was me, right?" Allison asked, pointing at herself glumly.

"Right." Ratchet sighed. "Great. Now we have Soundwave on our tail."

Hearing the name once already, she'd been naive enough to not associate it with anything that meant great harm. After all, she'd never come across any Decepticon before, so it was hard to picture what level of malice they actually possessed. Remembering the hulking, beast of a car that had been blasting through whatever was in its path just to get to her, certainly painted the picture in a very different light. She swallowed hard, but didn't say anything. Ratchet, assuming her silence meant confusion, decided to explain it to her further.

"Rumble is one of Soundwave's cohorts. You see…" He was pushed aside by Wheeljack, who raised an educative finger.

"Soundwave has various smaller Decepticons called Minicons at his disposal." Wheeljack didn't seem to be aware that he was in fact cutting Ratchet off, and seemed to miss the angry glare shot in his direction completely. "Alone they're not much of a threat to us physically, but they're small enough, fast enough and with enough gizmos equipped to either serve as a distraction or aid Soundwave in battle. They also have a tendency to break into our defence systems and make a mess."

"Further more," cut in Ratchet, grumpily, "they are his eyes and ears when the situation calls for even greater stealth, being able to get into places he obviously can't. Rumble is particularly problematic, and he can create a great amount of physical destruction, despite his tiny size. He created that earthquake as a distraction, purposely confronting us so that Soundwave could slip by," Ratchet continued, glancing at Wheeljack. "Thankfully we realized this in time, and I told Wheeljack he needed to get to you, because I knew that you wouldn't have a clue what to do if Soundwave were to make his presence known, which he did."

"What happened to Rumble?" she asked faintly, not entirely concerned but more curious. Ratchet snorted again, angrily. It was difficult to imagine how a seemingly "small" robot could create such an enormous disturbance, but it just added to the list of peculiarities about them that she had running through her mind and likely would never truly understand.

"He was easily taken care of. Overloaded his circuits-" Ratchet said, and Allison jumped when out of nowhere two very large blade-looking panels extracated from Ratchet's forearm, resonating with a snapping spark of electricity. The air in the room changed distinctly, and Allison felt a strange electrical pull on her body. It didn't feel entirely dangerous, but the nagging, clinging sensation against her hair was enough to make her step back. Ratchet watched her move, and with a loud shink of metal they retreated back into his arm. Wheeljack looked slightly annoyed, and he was pulling at his helmet worriedly.

"Like Lazerbeak?" Allison added, recalling the name from weeks earlier. Ratchet looked at Wheeljack dangerously.

"You didn't tell me about that…" he snarled, and Wheeljack just shrugged.  
"Must have slipped my mind…" Ratchet didn't seem to want to press the issue, so instead he continued,

"Rumble will be back though, but he will be with Soundwave next time, and Soundwave will not be happy that we were able to intercept."

"But why? Why then and there?" she asked, now feeling very worried and afraid. It was Ratchet's turn to shrug, but when he did it, it was much more abrupt.

"It stands to reason that he's after the same thing we were, and likely thought you had it... or at least... had the information" he said lightly, trailing off with a sullen expression as if he was thinking of something particularly horrible. Allison wasn't sure if it should be something for her to be worried about or not, but movement to the side caught her attention. Wheeljack had shuffled around to the other side of his makeshift worktable and had bent down slightly out of Allison's view. A second later various bits of scrap and car parts were thrown around behind him haphazardly as if he were searching for something. Allison nearly lept out of her skin just as the clamor began, the various pieces crashing into the walls and clattering to the floor noisily. To her, they were quite large and sharp looking, and while Wheeljack seemed to be taking great care to throw them in places that weren't near her, she didn't want to take chances. Quickly, she backed against the wall to the messy little palette she'd constructed for a bed weeks before. It had turned into a mere pile of blankets and pillows, strewn with a book or too, but being lazy Allison had not bothered to clean it. Besides, she doubted that the robots particularly cared about her insignificant mess in the corner.

Wheeljack moved on to yet another pile in a further corner of the room, and began hurling even more mismatched bits of machinery behind him. She didn't entirely understand what he was doing, but feeling like she hadn't fully been answered yet, she turned back to Ratchet,

"And what would have happened if he had caught me? I clearly don't have what he seems to think I do..."

"He would have killed you," Ratchet's words were very abrupt, and for a second the noisy ruckus of Wheeljack's destruction of the room stopped as if he was listening. "With or without the information. It wouldn't have mattered."

"Thanks for being honest I guess..." Allison said faintly, torn between being irritated about it and fear. She knew that what he said was true, and if Soundwave had caught her, she knew she wouldn't have survived to talk about it. If the destructiveness of the events prior were any testament to what he was capable of, then she didn't want to envision how a possible death would play out.

As if purposely trying to cut through the awkward silence, Wheeljack emerged from behind his pile holding onto what looked like a circular chunk of grayish metal. He cradled it into his hands and sauntered over to Allison with it, handing it to her dutifully. She looked at it uneasily, not entirely sure what it actually was that he was handing her.

"What is this?" she asked worriedly, faintly regretting her lack of trust but she couldn't stop thinking about the vision of him setting his own arm on fire.

"It isn't combustible, but it is fragile, so do be careful with it." And in truth, now that she could actually see what he was holding, she saw that it definitely was rather underwhelming. It was nothing more than what looked like a smooth disc made of metal. There were various grooves and ridges cut into its frame, like little compartments that were flush with the actual casing of it. There was an odd indentation on one side that looked to be just the right shape for someones finger, without actually looking like it was something that could be pressed. Looking at it questionably, it actually looked somewhat like a landmine, and with that horrifying thought,

"Why does this look like a landmine?"

"I told you it didn't actually explode..." he said, very offhandedly.

"But it does other things equally dangerous? Do you just carry this around with you all the time in case you feel like breaking in somewhere?" she asked, half expecting it to transform in her hands at any second. Wheeljack chuckled again,

"Actually no, I had brought it thinking it might prove useful, and Primus would know, it did!" he said gleefully, stepping back as Allison set it down near her crumpled bedding. "Now just hold onto that until after dark. I'll tell you what to do when we get there. It's quite simple really..."

Their battling definitions of simple were very different, so Allison didn't get her hopes up.

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**The title will actually become somewhat relevant later on.**

**I've chosen to have Soundwave use a vehicle as his alt mode, as it seemed to me to be more realistic than a tape deck in these circumstances. Rumble, however, will have some type of alt mode that fits in with Soundwave's persona, and he will indeed be back.**


	16. Complexities

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Note: Just a brief lull for the next few chapters before the storm hits...**

**I'm not entirely pleased with how this one turned out, and it feels relatively weak to me. I've tried to explain a lot of things here that I think would need more time to accurately make sense but I've made a start. Some more exploration of character, and perhaps a look into the character's complexities. I'm sort of going out on a limb here and taking some liberties, but it was fun to write. Fluff is fun. :3**

**The italics indicate they are talking internally.**

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Allison at least had gotten the chance to get in some well deserved hours of sleep after the days events had settled down, and she curled up on her little palette to relax. Trying not to think about what she was about to do that evening, no sooner had her head hit the pillow before she was instantly asleep. She didn't dream much anymore, occasionally there was some abstract vision of Wheeljack, or even something completely unrelated to her current predicaments, but for the most part her dreams were absent. She slept deeply, so exhausted from the ordeal of the afternoon that her sane sense of reality needed a brief escape from everything. The robots apparently, were not as susceptible to these foibles, so they wandered restlessly, speaking in muted tones over their internal coms so not to actually wake her. However, that didn't hinder the direction of their conversation.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ratchet had decided to inquire seemingly out of nowhere. Wheeljack had been in the midst of opening up a very rusted over drill hammer, only for the thrill of finding out what was inside. Startled, he stopped, only briefly, then continued with the activity as if Ratchet hadn't even spoken.

"What do you mean?" he asked carelessly, cracking open the outer casing with ease.

"You're too sentimental," was all Ratchet said. He was busy trying to clean up the mess that Wheeljack had made earlier with his exuberant searching. Wheeljack stopped what he was doing, but didn't need to look up to speak what was on his mind.

"Sentimental? Good advice from someone who avoids any social interaction if he can help it."

"You're one to talk, you barely even interact with Sari when she's around. The girl is terrified of you..."

Wheeljack frowned internally, thinking. "I bore her..." he said. "She's far too young to share any of the same interests.."

"And you think this little human youngling does?" Ratchet snapped, internally motioning towards Allison, who remained unaware of the conversation that was taking place. Wheeljack paused again, considering his next words.

"I have to protect her Ratchet," he said simply, trying to let the weight of his resolve smother the medic with reasoning but he was unhindered. Ratchet scoffed over the com irritably.

"Take it from me. You're letting yourself get too involved. I think it's time you treated this a little more seriously. Megatron's sent not only Starscream, but Soundwave to find her too. You know what that means."

"Yeah. That we have to do a better job of hiding." Wheeljack continued on with his task at hand, trying to seem indifferent and unaffected, but he was starting to grow annoyed with the medic.

"We can't hide forever Wheeljack. Sooner or later that slag pile is going to find her, and when he does, you need to be prepared." Ratchet continued, content to carry on with his little tirade despite Wheeljack's attempts at appearing as if he wasn't listening. It was difficult, and finally after long moments of agonizing silence where he knew Ratchet was waiting for an answer, he stopped and turned. Ratchet was looking at him oddly. Wheeljack stared long and hard, but Ratchet didn't so much as blink.

"For what?"

"You know what."

"I'm not going to let that happen."

"I don't think you have much of a choice."

There was another long pause between their internal coms, dead air, where it was actually Wheeljack who didn't quite know what to say to counter that. He felt that Ratchet was being harsh, but knowing enough about his past, he had the sense to know when Ratchet was merely masking his genuine concern with obstinacy.

"Like Arcee?" Wheeljack had taken a risk, and it clearly hit the mark. Ratchet didn't only internally react, but he physically bristled at the younger Autobot's audacity.

"That was... entirely different..." he snarled, vocally, not even bothering to speak silently over the com. Wheeljack continued on.

"I don't see how it is. You avoid closeness for the sake of keeping your own wounds open just to prove a point. You aren't fooling anyone..." Wheeljack said, still opting to speak silently over the com. He waved his hand irritably in the air as he turned back to his drill. "You want everyone to be miserable, just like you." He knew he had gone to far, for the ripples of emotion that escaped through the com were more than just anger, but downright frustration. Suddenly Ratchet snapped shut like a clam, the ripples retracting. He growled dangerously.

"All I'm saying, is that you are VERY much going to regret letting yourself get bonded to her when she gets herself murdered."

"Tell that to Bumblebee and see how he takes it," Wheeljack continued, trying hard to suppress the sting of Ratchet's words against his spark. It was easiest to mask it by appearing busy, so he tried to dig himself deeper into examining the human machinery that now lay almost entirely dismantled before him.

"I have, and he's just as stubborn as you are, but in fact, I think you're worse. He's young, he has an excuse for being an idiot. You just ARE one, plain and simple."

"Are you done?" Wheeljack audibly cycled air, becoming increasingly frustrated that Ratchet would not shut up, when he had more interesting things to immerse his attentions. Finally, blissfully, seemingly satisfied that he'd said his piece Ratchet stopped talking internally. There was at least 10 more minutes of heavenly silence before he finally spoke again, vocally.

"We need to wake her from recharge. It's time to go." Ratchet said, somewhat distantly, nursing his own hurt, even though he'd never admit it. Wheeljack knew better, knew Ratchet wasn't as completely heartless as he let on, but it was merely the medic's own emotional defenses. He wasn't just miserable because he was old, he'd been hurt in the spark more times than any of them, and it neatly accounted for all his irritability and outright disregard for anything even coming close to resembling intimacy now.

Despite the annoyance at the invasion of, what Wheeljack felt was a very private matter and his business only, he knew with a pang of dread that Ratchet was right. At this point he was slightly more involved than initially expected, and whether Optimus had intended that or not, in his own weird way of manipulating his brethren for the better, it had happened. If Allison were to not make it through this, and the possibility was very high that he would not be able to protect her at just that critical moment, he would be more than devastated. He would internally die. It was an odd and almost unsettling conclusion to come to, feeling the weight of that revelation press against his spark with more certainty than he'd ever known.

Having such a strong, unique Cybertronian emotion staring you in the face was startling, and given that it occurred rarely, and of all things, on this tiny remote planet made it all the more disruptive. He did not want to become Ratchet, but he also did not want to be heartless and completely close himself off from any natural paternal instincts. He could deny it to Ratchet all he wanted, but it was useless, just like Ratchet's attempts to subvert it. It was an important social occurrence among his species that couldn't be easily stopped. Tightening the joints in his jaw, he resolved, swore to himself that he was never more intent on one purpose throughout his very long, war-riddled life. Allison was not going to die. His own sanity now depended on it.

"I will do it," Wheeljack snapped, more abruptly than he'd meant it, but he'd lost his patience for Ratchet and his meddling. His foul temper didn't last long, for once he saw the crumpled heap that was Allison sleeping alone in the corner, his Spark wavered uneasily in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure how to wake her without scaring her or doing any harm. Settling on kneeling down and poking her, it took a few moments for her to appear as if she was regaining consciousness. He poked her again, a little firmer, and she blinked sleepily, clearly confused. She jerked as soon as she saw him looming above, but calmed almost immediately.

"There has to be a better way for you to wake me up..." she said groggily, her eyes drooping and heavy. Wheeljack smiled at her from beneath his mask as her eyes turned to him, and a shimmer of happiness passed over her face as she reacted to his own. Slowly she came to a stand, her pleasant countenance suddenly turning into a frown as she looked at something beyond him. Wheeljack traced her line of sight and saw that she was looking at Ratchet, who was eyeing them fiercely, hands planted firmly at his waist.

"What's wrong with him?" she murmured, trying to direct her question only to Wheeljack, but Ratchet made his usual involuntary twitch to signify that he was very much within earshot. Allison returned his stare with a scowl. Wheeljack only shrugged.

"I think he's upset because he's tired," he said, that same mirthful glimmer in his eye which signified that he was stating something that wasn't quite serious. Allison looked at him questioningly, as if silently asking if he actually enjoyed harassing Ratchet like it was a normal pass-time. She frowned at him thoughtfully, her eyes showing off a great deal of perceptive concern.

"That isn't why I'm upset at all-" Ratchet had begun, throwing up his hands, but suddenly cut himself off-a rare occurrence-and stormed up and out from the basement without another word. Once he was gone, Allison had decided to say something most unexpected.

"He doesn't like me, does he?" she asked carefully, frowning up at him deeply. Wheeljack was taken aback by the question, and thinking back at his previous conversation with Ratchet, he wasn't sure exactly what to tell Allison in regards to his previous conversation with the medic.

"It depends on his mood," he said, one brow ridge elevated. He drew away, and Allison could clearly tell he was purposely holding something back. "Sometimes he doesn't actually like me, but that's neither here nor there..."

"So he doesn't like me then..." Allison said faintly with some disappointment. She was trying to comb out her hair with her fingers, wincing as her fingers became ensnared with a good-sized knot.

"No, I don't mean that," Wheeljack started, correcting himself. "I mean, let me put it this way. Ratchet has a weird way of showing he cares. There's a lot going on internally that he doesn't even share with us most of the time," he said, making a show to look like he was scratching the ridges on his head as if in thought.

"Does he ever share it with you?" she asked quietly, giving up on trying to free her hair from the snags, and instead, decided on tying it back with a band she produced from her wrist.

"There have been times where he has been more open, but they are rare. Usually he realizes he's actually connecting with another individual and then shuts down immediately."

"I'm surprised, but then again given what he does, I suppose it would be detrimental to be too affected by your patients, or other people, knowing that one day you could be responsible for their lives," Allison responded, and Wheeljack was quite surprised by her tremendous insight, even after being with Ratchet for such a very short period of time. He was starting to believe that surprisingly, many of their species' social dynamics might be quite similar after all.

"I'm a bit older than the others, so I've seen more. Ratchet relates to those with experience. But I don't think he'd ever share everything with anyone who wasn't there with him." Wheeljack continued.

"You mean back on Cybertron?"

"I mean in the heart of the war. Ratchet didn't always spend all his time in a base. He was a field medic, and often times had to brave dangers on the front lines that no other mech would have dared to even attempt. He's an old, old war hero Allison. From what I know about human wars, I would say he's something like your own veterans."

"Then, he's hurt..." she said politely, but the look in her eyes suggested something quite different: a graceful understanding that almost amounted to something close to pity.

"Ratchet learned very well to keep his emotions in check, it is a strength that is paramount amongst medi-bots who are forced to risk their own lives in order to save another. And while every little bit mounts up and adds to the overall conditions of his psych, he spends so much time not talking about it, that it just ends up making him quite insufferable to be around for those who are too young to understand..." Wheeljack said, and he made a motion as if he was about to pat her on the head, but stopped, and settled on just tapping her shoulder with a single finger. "Ratchet does not hate many, even those that he appears to vehemently despise, if not just tolerate for the sake of keeping peace. While he appears to be a cold, Sparkless machine, he is actually just a harmless stuffed ursidae if you were to truly sit and spend a few moments with him," Wheeljack ended, glancing at the ramp that led out, half wondering if Ratchet had been listening in on the entire conversation, or if he'd merely just gone outside to brood. He couldn't sense Ratchet over his com, but that had never stopped the medic from snooping in the past

When he looked back at Allison, he was surprised to see her between hysterics and trying to keep her face serious.

"Did you just call him a teddy bear?" she snorted lightly, the edges of a suppressed smile apparent.

"Oh is that what you call it then?" he said, winking quite obviously at her despite his clear ignorance at what was perhaps standard human knowledge. She snorted again, standing up. "Well clearly I need to spend more time perusing more popular culture, thank you very much, which is not something I've had much of a chance to do-" he started, defensively, but not seriously so. Allison held up her hands.

"It's okay, I'll forgive you, again," she said, picking up the smooth metal disc that had been at the end of her bedding, wrapping it tightly in her jacket. Wheeljack stepped back and turned towards the ramp and transformed, slamming to the ground and simultaneously spinning around widely on his wheels. He made a show of revving the engine, and Allison rolled her eyes at him before walking to his door.

"Showoff," she muttered, and climbed inside. Ratchet indeed had decided to cool off outside, and was already sitting in his vehicular form waiting. He just oozed discontent.

"Are you all quite finished?" he growled irritably at Wheeljack back over the com.

"We're done. How about you? Fully napped?"

"Wise aft," came the cantankerous reply, but Wheeljack was feeling so internally pleased with himself he didn't even bother continuing the verbal altercation.

They remained silent throughout the drive back towards the streets, which hours before had been utter chaos. As they ventured closer, the signs of the day's destruction became more apparent as law enforcement and emergency response had attempted to contain the areas that were the most severely damaged and dangerous. This of course did not deter them, but it forced them to find more creative routes back to their destination. Ratchet was able to blend in easily, and in doing so it made Wheeljack's slightly less conspicuous presence easier to trust when they did happen to pass by someone.

For the most part the streets were in fact empty, blockaded, and mere reminders of what had gone on earlier. Allison was clearly mildly distressed, but she didn't say anything, and Wheeljack felt no need to press her.

"The real work will not begin until tomorrow, " Wheeljack said quietly as they drove into a dim, sparse alleyway in between the building that housed the bank and the adjacent structure. It was relatively clean, and wide enough for the two of them to pass through. Wheeljack stopped just outside of the large, back service door, that after a few quick scans of the building, knew it belonged to their destination.

"This is where the armored vehicles unload all the cash..." Allison remarked faintly, her obvious nerves easy to detect despite her attempts at masking them with idle conversation.

"Now Allison, this will be very short and very simple..." Wheeljack said, opening his door for her. She knew the signal, and slowly got out, clinging to the metal disc wrapped in her jacket. She took a few steps towards the door, kneeling down to examine the complicated dead-bolt combination lock that held the heavy door firmly shut. There would be no need to break the door down with sheer force, that would be too obvious. This called for something more stylish.

Allison was looking at him expectantly, waiting for some type of direction. Slowly, he managed to transform in such a constricted environment where he had more than one obstacle to watch out for: Allison the most obvious thing he didn't wish to crush, but also the buildings around them had been weakened by the seismic attack earlier. There were several garbage bins and piles of trash around, and should too much noise be made, the single guard he detected would likely be alerted. Ratchet also transformed, albeit much slower, but with no more trouble than he had.

"Are there banks on Cybertron?" Allison asked, seemingly out of nowhere. She was still clutching the round metal disc to her chest, looking up at him warily.

"There are many! They're called Databanks!" he answered, doing best to keep the volume of his voice lower than normal. Ratchet did not add any response to the conversation, still intent on staying mute.

"Ha ha," Allison said drolly. "That wasn't funny."

Wheeljack shrugged at her, feigning innocence, then motioned at the disc she was clutching. He carefully got down on one knee, feeling very cramped in the alleyway, but Allison had the sense to step back to keep herself from being smashed. She dutifully handed him the disc, her eyes displaying nothing but confusion. He emitted a quick, high pitched chirping noise, sliding his hand along the outter rim before finally catching the hidden switch he was looking for. It was inlaid seamlessly with the metal, but at his verbal activation it came loose. He tugged at it, then handed it back to Allison, who was now looking quite horrified.

"It isn't a grenade," he said sarcastically. "But there will be a controlled burst as soon as you touch this part right here," he said, pointing to the little indentation on the side that was just large enough for a human finger tip. "Trust me, it's safe, but you need to hold still-"

Allison had already pressed it, immediately flinging it into the air and away from her body as the little disc rocked violently, parts bursting outward as it hit the ground noisily. She was holding her hands tightly against her mouth as if trying to suppress a scream, watching with abstract horror as the disc grew six spindly legs, wobbling erratically as all its little pieces fell into place. It was revealed to be something Wheeljack had made long ago as an assisting component drone. It had two, yellow eyes that poked up like a crustacean, and they were currently looking around quickly as if trying to get and idea as to what was going on. It only took a second for Wheeljack to creep into its central processors, gently, and impart upon it their intentions. Immediately it understood, and directed its eyes at Allison, who was looking very pale.

"This is merely a drone. It's not sentient, but holds complex programming algorithms that allow it to understand simple, to very complex commands. It already knows what it needs to do, and it will accompany you inside. Because the locks are not tied to the central computer system, I can not tap into them myself, but this little guy can. You just need to go with it. You'll hardly even notice it's there," Wheeljack said, but before he could add anything else, the small, metallic invention was trying to scramble up Allison's legs and onto her back. She was frozen in horror, staring blankly and looked as if she was about to faint. A quick mental slap hit him, followed by one brief sardonic remark,

"Nice..."

Scrambling to recover, Wheeljack tried to think of something quick to calm her down, simultaneously ignoring Ratchet's pleasure at being given the chance to poke at him mercilessly. She was starting to visibly calm, but didn't appear to enjoy having a arachnoid robot clinging to her shoulders, shivering like a terrified, drowned rat.

"It appears to like you..." Wheeljack said stupidly, trying to make light of the situation, feeling Ratchet's internal wince over the com before he decided to actually speak after so much silence.

"That's some pretty ingenious programming you got there..." he said sardonically, folding his arms in disgust.

"I never said it was perfect by any means-" Wheeljack cycled air. "Look, there is one guard stationed on the inside near the front watching the monitors. Thankfully for us, those are tied to the central computer, so I can tap into those and put the videos on an indefinite loop. As long as you don't make too much noise, the guard will never know..." Allison wasn't looking any more convinced, but seemed just slightly less disturbed by the drone attached to her. She shifted nervously, jerking as the drone scrambled at her shoulder, clinging even tighter than it had been previously. "This will be easy."

"It's crawling on my back." she said stiffly, shifting again as if trying to knock the drone off her by mere force, but it held tightly.

"That's right. It can sit there and remain unnoticed through it's active camouflage. It'll be effectively invisible."

"But it's still crawling on my back." She coughed nervously. "Drone... um... climb down please." There was a chirping noise and the drone obediently crawled back down.

"But it's best if..." Wheeljack started to argue but stopped when he noticed that Allison was staring daggers into him.

"Look, I might be making it harder for myself but I am not having this thing on my back." The drone chirped sadly, hurt, and Allison turned to it and frowned. "Sorry," she muttered, turning slowly to reach the door. "Um... unlock this door?" she clearly wasn't sure of how she should be commanding it, so her phrasing was awkward as she pointed at it, but Wheeljack was feeling very much like a proud mother hen as he watched them interact. He swelled.

"You're choking me with all that ego," Ratchet remarked, but Wheeljack was too busy watching Allison and his drone to notice. It had scrambled up and onto the door, running along it vertically, stopping at the complicated digital lock that controlled the dead-bolt. It hovered over it for a beat, before sliding one of its long, spindly legs through the card reader that kept it closed. The number pad on the lock blinked erratically for a few seconds, before going completely white, and the sound of the deadbolt releasing could be heard. Allison looked back at him once, a look that suggested she would save her real thoughts for later, before turning and slipping inside.

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**I want to make it very clear here that the idea of a bond I'm using here is not meant to be taken as a romantic notion by any means. The way I see it, it's meant to be somewhat of a close partnership, and maybe a relationship more akin to a paternal connection here, with a very strong emotional intimacy. It can happen between any two individuals, maybe, like the Sunstreaker and Sideswipe for example. It's not meant to be romantic, but its a very strong social, emotional bond that the individuals thrive on. So, no romance here, and in fact, quite harmless.  
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	17. Bank Heist

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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Allison took a step into the darkened room, her eyes trying to focus as the light from the door did little to illuminate the area in front of her. She looked back questioningly, only to see Wheeljack doing his best to peek in the doorway at her. This didn't exactly help because she was walking into a bank after hours, not trying out for the track team. So she chose to just scowl at him, and shook her head silently, before turning back to the inky black of themain room. She couldn't exactly tell what was in this room; it looked partially like a storage closet and a meeting room all mixed into one. From what she could see there was a jumble of cleaning supplies on one of the far walls, and a row of benches on the other.

Doing her best not to run into anything, Allison stepped forward towards the illuminated space of the wall in front of her which she could tell was a door. Her robotic companion didn't seem to share the same difficulty of sight, as it scuttled before her towards that very same door. It scurried up the face of it, where there was another keypad similar to the one outside, and lifted its leg up to unlock it in the same fashion as the outer door.

"I could have done that," she muttered feebly to nobody in particular. The robot squeaked as the door opened, and Allison had to look away as bright light flooded through. The room beyond was different. It had a bright, metallic sheen to it, with a blue hue coming from overhead lights. She realized it was a hallway, extending some ways to her left, doors set into it at evenly spaced intervals. The robot didn't hesitate, skittering into the room quickly seemingly indifferent to the possibilities of someone wandering around. Perhaps it could sense someone if they were coming, which was encouraging, but didn't exactly dispel all her fears. She followed it instinctively, and the door shut behind her. Allison turned and fumbled at the door, but it was locked.

"You can open that, right?" she asked, looking down at it with a mild stir of panic. The robot let out a weird pipping sound and a bit of air hissed from a valve. "I hope that was a yes," she muttered as she turned and slowly walked the length of the hall.

The hallway was a length of sterile blue tile and chromatic lighting, making Allison almost disoriented for the first few steps she took. It was like walking through a hospital almost, the bright colors making it hard to discern the different breaks in the walls where the doors were. There was a faint buzz in the air from the florescent lighting, which only accentuated the odd quiet, broken only by the scuttling of the little robot's feet and the occasional chirp. Every corner, as Allison continued to follow the little creature down the seemingly endless maze of hallways, a security camera sat mounted against the wall and above. The first one she saw made her freeze. A moment of irrational panic set in almost causing her to run, until she realized that if after 10 minutes nobody came to grab her and there were no shrieking alarms, she was probably fine. She had to simply trust Wheeljack, and assume that the erratic blinking of the LED meant that whoever was watching the feed wasn't able to see what the camera was actually looking at. Even so, around every turn she half expected to run smack into an armed guard, or worse, have one suddenly come out of one of the doors around her, but it was disturbingly quiet.

There didn't seem to be much security to speak of at all, odd, considering it was a bank. Perhaps they worked minimal staff at night, or perhaps they were so confident in their security systems which Wheeljack had so easily circumvented. Of course, she doubted that alien robots had been on their list of possible threats.

Finally the walls turned into a row of glass panels covered with venetian blinds on the other side. Allison wondered faintly to herself if they were bulletproof. As she walked along, her gaze travelled along the windows, imagining she could see past them and into the offices beyond. That started to become mildly unnerving, and finally she had to force herself to find something else to focus her attention on, as it only accentuated the dull, mindlessness of the hallway itself. Looking at the names on the doors as she passed by them. They all seemed to be staff positions. None appeared to be what she was after, and she was starting to wonder if perhaps she should have had the foresight to maybe ask where the vault actually was, assuming Wheeljack actually knew.

"Hey, do you know where we're even going?" Allison stopped, feeling somewhat weird coming out asking the little drone a question as if expecting it to answer with some measure of intelligence. Not only that, but her voice, while doing her best to keep it muted, sounded unnaturally loud in the hallway, and she feared that if any unwanted ear happened to stray past it would easily hear her. But to her surprise the little robot stopped and turned to look at her, and part of its head shot up, causing her to step back in fright as a hologram of the facility popped up into view. Multiple floors, many extending above and below ground level, were shown, and a giant blue dot, presumably indicating themselves, shimmered, slightly breaking under the light of the room. A second dot, this time red, appeared in a room right next to them.

"Wow. That's surprisingly anti-climatic." she muttered, and the wee robot retracted the hologram, and looked up at her with limpid, almost mournful eyes. It reminded her of a small dog looking up at its master, and she frowned back at it, wondering just how "non-sentient" Wheeljack seemed to think it was, and what criteria he was actually comparing it to. It warbled, and took a few tentative, clattering steps at her, before appearing to point in the direction they had been heading, almost insistent.

"I guess that means you do... um..." she said, hesitating. "Do you, er- have a name...? I can't exactly keep calling you 'drone', can I? Let's see..." she said, thinking of something that would do this little creature justice. She looked around for some source of inspiration, but her eyes kept getting redirected to the nameplates on the doors. They didn't exactly bring to mind anything suitable to call this little creature until one word in particular caught her eyes and stuck to her like glue. It was an odd name, but it reminded her of a nickname her mom had had for their Shih Tzu growing up. The nameplate read: Thomas Bean, Manager.

"Alright then, I'm calling you Bean. Not sure why, but it might help you seem just a little bit cuter..." she said, and the name fit to her, but she had a feeling that it would take a generous amount of explaining to Wheeljack why she'd even named it in the first place. The little creature made a cooing noise, and seemed pleased with the name, at least as pleased as an apparent non-sentient machine could be.

"Okay then Bean, let's go..." she said, motioning down the hallway before them. It finally ended, with a set of large double doors to her right with two windows that looked out into the main room of the bank where she'd been hours earlier. To the left, one very large, circular metal door that could only be the entrance to the main vault.

It was huge. A big, round cylindrical wheel was stuck to the front, with sparkling blue lights on either side. It had a keypad in the middle, and a small glass panel to the right. There was even a little footpad on the floor. Allison looked at the little robot.

"I think I'll leave this one to you," she said, daunted by the prospect of even attempting to figure out how to open the door without setting off any alarms. The robot raised what looked like eyebrows at her, and took a few steps towards the vault door. It lept into the center of the wheel and clung to it, where it just sat there, motionless and silent.

While Bean appeared to be occupied, she snuck over to the two main doors, unable to contain her curiosity, and peeked out into the main room of the bank. It was dark at this hour, but enough light spilled through the windows from outside that allowed her to see the minimal damage that had been caused earlier by the quake. In little piles on the ground, there were various bits of rubble and odds and ends from the desks that took up most of the space there. It was relatively uninteresting, but her main source of curiosity was the light shinning through the main opening where she knew the guard was sitting. There was only the faint, muted glow of his personal light, but aside from that nothing of interest was happening. She couldn't actually see him, so assumed he was still at his station watching the hacked monitors.

After a few quiet moments passed and nothing seemed to be happening behind her, Allison started to get a little nervous. She turned, and Bean was still clinging to the wheel and hadn't appeared to have moved. Was it broken? She walked towards it and tapped it gently.

"Hello?" she asked quietly. There was a hum, and the creature fell off the door startling her. All the lights on the main door switched off, and the room plunged into darkness. Allison swore and turned around, half expecting pure black, but it appeared as if these hallways had been the only thing affected. She waited with bated breath in the darkness fearful of getting caught, before the lights abruptly flickered back to life again, and there was a soft groan as the door painstakingly swung outwards. Bean turned towards her, lifting a leg and pointing into the room, appearing triumphant.

"Good little Bean," she said, and trying not to actually touch the door, she angled her body and slid through the gap that had been created between the metal and the wall surrounding it. As soon as she was through she felt the scrambling legs of Bean as it lept from the ground onto her shoulder, throwing her forward a few steps. Regaining her balance, she looked around the room. This room was much brighter, and knowing she had to be quick, she quickly got to work. If the guard were to turn around, the new source of light would likely draw his attention, and she didn't want to shut the door for risk of being locked in.

Looking around, the main room she was in appeared to be exactly what she wanted. The room itself branched off and to the right in an "L" shape, the walls covered in what looked like apartment post boxes shut with locks. These were the deposit boxes she needed. Directly in front of her was another vault door, one that looked much heavier and secure, so she assumed that must have stored all the bank's cash. Ignoring it, albeit tempting, she got to work finding the correct box she was looking for. With Bean in tow, she began scanning the rows of nearly identical boxes, following the numbers in order: 3754... 55...56... and she finally found it, not any more remarkable than the others. Pulling the key from her pocket she slid it into the lock and turned. It clicked softly, and pulling gently, the box came free from the wall easily. Careful not to actual drop it, she knelt down, setting it to the floor before pulling the key out. The top of it was easily removed, and as she opened it, she gaped stupidly, feeling her neck get warm as her blood started to rush.

It was another damn postcard, this time, much bigger, that had yet another key taped to the underside. This one however, was not a card showing a bank, but a storage facility. Looking at the address printed on the back of the card, Allison recognized the city name as being at least a few hours outside of town. The key on the other side was much heavier, larger, and a burnished silver in color. Ripping the key off, she shoved that one into her pocket, and folded the card up carelessly, putting that into her pocket as well. Closing the box with a snap, she deposited it back into its niche on the wall, locking it once again. Turning to go, she was now anxious to get out of the bank, and as soon Bean did its work in closing the vault again and resetting the lock, she took off at a run, the little robot in tow.


	18. Enter the Seeker

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Note: This chapter is pretty long, and was one I really didn't want to break apart. Be prepared for a long read.**

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Allison scrambled out of the building at break-neck speed, slamming the back door behind her as soon as Bean lept through and bounced along the ground to stop its momentum. She paused for a few moments, allowing the reality of what she'd just done set in before she turned, Bean dancing around proudly at her feet. Wheeljack and Ratchet appeared to have not even moved, and they were both looking at her expectantly. Wheeljack in particular was beaming.

"I trust you were successful?" he asked, his voice glossed over with amusement. Allison stared at him for a long while, trying to find words for how she felt.

"If you were 25 feet shorter I might consider murdering you right now..." she said sarcastically, and was thankful that her remark was taken as such. Ratchet seemed particularly amused, and she actually caught him smirking, but it disappeared as soon as he noticed her eyes on him.

"You do realize I just robbed a bank, don't you?"

"No you didn't. The contents of that box belonged to you. You had every right to take it," Wheeljack said simply, and she got the impression that the whole concept was utterly lost on him. He seemed genuinely convinced, but it was yet another one of those things that apparently didn't translate well between their two species.

"…After hours, by breaking in. I robbed a bank. Robbed. A bank." She continued, her voice a shrill hiss as she tried to stay quiet, Bean was still dancing around at her feet chirping happily.

"You seem to have a problem repeating your words." Ratchet asked, the irony in his voice clear that he was actually just poking fun at her.

"And now your teasing me about it," she countered, shooing Bean away lightly, as its prancing was starting to just slightly annoy her.

"Not at all," Ratchet said with some detachment, despite the knowing glare in his eyes. Allison raised her hands to her face.

"I take that back. I would murder the both of you... come on Bean... we're walking," she said, motioning the little drone down the alleyway past Wheeljack. She was surprised to be stopped dead in her tracks by a wall of black that blocked her escape route. Wheeljack was keeping her from walking away by creating a barricade with his hand. He looked at Bean for a moment, then looked back at Allison, appearing to scratch his head. Leaning forward slightly, he removed his hand from her path.

"Bean?" he asked, puzzled.

"Yes. Bean." she confirmed, balling her hands into fists and resting them on her sides. Wheeljack stood up straight again.

"Bean." he repeated, as if he needed to confirm it by repeating it. He looked at the little drone, then once again at Allison. "Why Bean?"

"I don't know. I just liked the name," she said faintly, looking down at the little creature who was zipping around in erratic loops like it was chasing something on the ground.

"But... it sounds so... why Bean?" He looked almost pained.

"Because it's cute? Look, it's just a name."

"Can we at least call it Laserbean or something?"

"Listen mister, you're the one who made me go in there with her, so now I get to name her. And her name is Bean!" Bean stopped its erratic circling and squeaked up at the both of them, lifting its little body up onto its back legs as if to stand. It warbled happily. "See?" Allison said triumphantly. "Bean agrees with me."

"You don't even know what it said!" Wheeljack countered, and she wondered why he was being so defensive about something he'd been so quick to dismiss as not sentient.

"Neither do you, and I don't have to. And it's a she. Not an it." Wheeljack was looking down at her seemingly at a loss for words, or at least, so perplexed that she'd actually succeeded in confounding someone who claimed to be so intelligent. Ratchet finally cut in with his all encompassing rainbow of uplifting spirits, shaking his head,

"Why assign a name to a creature that isn't even alive is beyond me."

"But it is alive. It acts like it is anyway," Allison said to Ratchet, frowning.

"Well it's not. It's just a dumb creature with barely enough A.I to unlock a door." Bean reacted to this, shrinking back a little and making a sad squeak.

"What do you call that then?" she countered, pointing down at the little robot who seemed to be cowering behind her leg now, chattering nervously.

"Emotion. But not like you seem to think of it as. It's just aesthetic. Why Wheeljack put it in I don't know. A creature like that could get you killed if you got too attached to it," Ratchet grumbled, folding his arms irritably. Allison bent down and patted Bean's jagged little head.

"That's a rather cold way of putting it," she said. Bean was warbling.

"I'm just a realist. When you have the same experiences I have, you'll understand where I'm coming from."

"I don't think I want to, to be honest..." Allison frowned sadly.

"And you never will if you keep that attitude up." He waved a hand irritably. "Do what you want. You're going to regardless of my advice anyway." He transformed into his vehicle mode. "Are we done here?"

Allison felt very much like she was done, and was thoroughly sick of Ratchet talking to her like she was an idiot. She bit her tongue, stopping whatever acid remark she had on her mind. Fighting Ratchet verbally had so far always seemed like an uphill battle where she was sure to lose, because he never seemed to have the capacity to take whatever she said as something to take seriously. Trying to remember what Wheeljack had said earlier about Ratchet's bad attitude towards everyone despite his genuine concern and empathy, it was hard to let it slide. There was only so far it could go before one couldn't make excuses for his behavior anymore, and it needed to be said. But, again, nothing she would say would be taken seriously regardless. Yet, she wondered how much longer she could take it. It was almost hurtful.

Turning back to Wheeljack he was looking at her curiously. Allison tried to wipe the sadness and unease from her face, but with the narrowing of his eyes she couldn't tell if he was misreading it, or was thinking about it and choosing to say something later. In any case, he held out his hand, made a drawn-out chirping noise as Bean lept into it, folding her body back up into the little compact form. A small section on his chest opened up, and he tucked Bean away inside.

"If that is what you want, then that is what it will be," he said, and she couldn't help but look at him a little shocked. His face was awash with amused understanding, eyes glowing like blue candle flames as he met her startled gaze.

"Really?" she asked. In truth, it wasn't like it was the most important thing in the world, but as it seemed that he was making a gigantic compromise that made it all the more meaningful. She looked at Ratchet, who was idling irritably while he waited for them to get moving.

Looking back at Wheeljack, Allison couldn't find any way to actually describe the way he was looking at her now. It was a very leveling gaze, like he was staring straight into her and beyond, making her a little uncomfortable. He'd never looked at her that way before, at least from what she could remember, as she thought she'd gotten pretty good at being able to read his different expressions despite most of his face being obscured. This one was entirely new. It wasn't unpleasant, just heavy.

Wheeljack blinked out of it very suddenly, and turned to Ratchet as he spoke.

"We might have trouble up ahead, so I suggest we move," he grumbled, his engine making a lurching growl to suggest his impatience.

"Right, let us make like Rick, and roll..." Wheeljack said, the sparkle in his eyes returning all at once. Allison had to do a double take for what she just heard.

"Did you really just say that?" she asked, mortified at such a randomly obscure reference, but grateful that it helped dispel the bad thoughts about the bank from her mind. She laughed at him.

"Your Internet is a very curious thing," he said, just as he began transforming. Allison walked around the driver's side and happily got in. Ratchet had already started to pull away, so Wheeljack drove forward to follow him. As they made distance, she started to feel better, but remained somewhat mentally shocked that she'd just slipped inside a bank after closing and had been able to just as easily sneak out with what they needed. Remembering about that, she pulled the card out of her pocket.

"It was another postcard, and another key. This time it's for a storage unit a few hours outside of town..." Allison said. Wheeljack was silent for a few moments before finally adding his thoughts.

"Alright then, road trip!" he said with brightness. "We'll go in the morning. I noticed one of my inter-cranial nodes was fluctuating strangely back there, so we'll need to return briefly so that Ratchet can take a look at it," he added, and Allison had to admit, that she was a little relieved. She was tired, and wanted a chance to lie down and enjoy the rest of the night resting before jumping out into yet another wild adventure.

Allison's attention was grabbed by commotion in front of them, as Ratchet's emergency lights suddenly flashed, throwing Wheeljack's interior space into a reddish glow. The spin of Ratchet's lights blended in with the plethora of colors from a multitude of police and medic cars that were creating an impenetrable wall in the road. Their way was blocked, and Allison tried to see what was happening, but her sight of the road beyond was blocked.

"What's going on?" she asked, thinking that Wheeljack had more of a clue. He seemed to be tensed by the stillness of the air, but it didn't appear in his voice at all.

"I'm not sure," he said, and at just that moment Ratchet's voice came in through Wheeljack's radio, startling Allison.

"Get her out of here, I'm going to hang back and see what the trouble is," he said, and Allison wondered why he would stay, and if there was cause for her to be worried. Neither of them seemed to be saying anything outright, so she had to assume that there wasn't trouble that actually affected them directly, and it was merely coincidence. Although she still wondered why Ratchet would find it so important to hang around. Wouldn't someone mistake him for an actual ambulance? She didn't think to ask Wheeljack, because he didn't outwardly seem concerned, if not unusually stiff, but she had assume that was due to the activity around them. Wheeljack merely obliged, and doubled back to take a side street, going lateral to where they actually needed to be.

Blankly Allison stared out the window, still too wound up to concentrate on what was being said or happening around her. She'd just broken into a bank; something she'd never imagined even contemplating. The closest she'd come was underpaying for her groceries.

Wheeljack took her silence as something that was necessary. He made a comment or two, but fell abnormally quiet once they ended up taking a route through a closed down construction site. There were no lights in this area, but Wheeljack traveled through easily unhindered by the darkness. Peering out the side of the window, Allison could make out the skeletons of the buildings in progress as they reached upwards, piles of metal beams and framework inter spaced around the sides of the lot. It felt weird, driving around such a deserted area, almost dangerous, but she knew that no human could actually pose any real threat, not when she was in present company.

Wheeljack suddenly and inexplicably stopped, throwing her forward slightly as his momentum seized. At first Allison wondered if there was something around them that she should be looking at. Wheeljack didn't say anything for a few seconds as if he was concentrating hard on something internally. She could almost feel it, and wondered what he was doing until he finally spoke.

"Get out and run," he growled, his tone a dramatic change from the Wheeljack she's become accustomed to, and for a moment she almost thought he was angry with her, furious, for his voice was dangerously tense. His door opened immediately, and Allison instinctively hesitated, unsure of what he was actually asking of her. Wheeljack's next, more forceful command was completely lost as Allison finally heard the oncoming whine of something coming in from the sky, very fast, and growing louder by the second. That's when she fled, nearly falling out of the seat as she darted towards the nearest piece of safety she could find: the interior of one of the unfinished buildings. The roar of something large grew closer, and she had to cover her ears as she ducked behind an unfinished with a pile of support beams resting against it. Crouching low, she could see from her meager hiding place through a small gap on the unfinished wall, so she had a decent view of the opening portion of the road that was surrounded by the husks of the construction in progress.

Wheeljack transformed very quickly, slightly crouched and staring forward at something unseen. Allison let in a quick breath of air as she watched him, clearly preparing for some type of confrontation as every joint tensed with anticipation. There was a loud, distant whirring sound as she saw the fins on his back rotate downwards, forcing something hidden within his back up, just as he reached back with reflexes that seemed far too quick for something his size; Precise, practiced movements that had been done many times over. She saw, with a dizzying kind of horror, that what he pulled out was a very large weapon, a gun clearly of alien design but no less destructive looking. He was pointing at the air, stepping back, not sparing a glance in her direction as the mighty roar of what could only be described as a sonic explosion erupted the still air.

At first, Allison didn't even have the capability of processing what she saw: The very large, sleek fighter jet that came in low and impossibly fast straight at Wheeljack. It skimmed the top of the partially constructed building, its nose suddenly veering upwards as it began to transform with an angry burst of noise and moving parts. Its robot form slammed down to the ground in a low crouch, its face awash with what had to have been the sickest sneer she could have ever thought possible. The new individual had its red, glaring eyes focused on Wheeljack, who was returning the stare venomously. This dramatic contrast if visual violence could only be Decepticon in nature.

Allison clung to the beam tightly, draining the blood flow from her knuckles and turning them white but she hardly noticed in her awestruck fear. Terrified of making even the slightest noise that would draw attention, she remained as frozen as she possibly could have been, barely so much as allowing herself the freedom to breath. Despite never seeing him before, she knew with conviction that this was Starscream.

Everything about his appearance screamed killer, from the sadistic grin to the weaponry he carried on him. Clearly built for dealing death and speed, his angular, streamlined body framed by the two arching wings on his back burned with violence, right down to the way he postured himself. Poised as if to physically strike, he glared at Wheeljack with his head down turned, aiming two very large cannons from his upper arms straight at Wheeljack's head.

"Starscream..." Wheeljack spat, as if to confirm it for her benefit, but she didn't need any type of confirmation from him. Her breath caught in her throat as Starscream stepped to the side, in the direction of where she was hiding. He didn't seem to be aware of her presence yet, and she had no intention of making it known any time soon. But he was very, very close, and rather large, despite not being quite as bulky as Wheeljack was. Starscream appeared to be more top heavy, the wings and cockpit of the aircraft, along with the frontal air intakes of the jet itself framing his torso made up a majority of his bulk. His legs were thinner, and while he likely preferred combat from the air, he moved with a feline grace that could only be described as grotesquely beautiful and agile. This creature likely had an ego that was even larger than Wheeljack's and Ratchet's combined, and it seemed to radiate off him like putrid waves of self-congratulating perfection.

Wheeljack was clearly trying to steer Starscream's attention away from her, but as Starscream took another step to the side he was completely obscured from Allison's view. She could hear a very faint, high-pitched whine that seemed to be coming from the twin cannons on his arms, like he was preparing to fire. It never grew in intensity, but neither one of them appeared to be wanting to fire without knowing either one had the advantage. So they continued on, almost circling each other, but Wheeljack remained hidden behind Starscream's bulk. Allison had to muster up more self-control than she'd ever thought possible as soon as she finally heard the murderer speak.

"Wheeljack, my what a surprise this is to see you!" his voice was jarring, and obnoxiously grating, acerbic remark dripping with irony. Allison could do nothing but watch Starscream move, horribly transfixed by the fluidity of his body as he shuffled another step. She could hear Wheeljack's voice, dimmed by the distance but no less threatening.

"Cut the small talk Starscream. You've known I've been here all along." Wheeljack growled.

"Okay, you're right. I did. I lie." Starscream replied, his tone suggesting that in some weird way he found enjoyment out of them moment. If Soundwave was as cold and calculative as she'd been led to believe, then Starscream was the polar opposite. He was psychotic.

"You always lie. Everything about you is a lie, Decepticon," came Wheeljack's reply, his voice moved slightly to Allison's left like he was trying to herd Starscream away from her. It wasn't working.

"If you say so. But I can assure you these are very real." He lifted a forearm higher and shot out an explosive blast that narrowly brushed past Wheeljack's shoulder, creating a smoldering, molten chunk of metal behind him. Wheeljack jerked to the side, but didn't return fire. Allison covered her ears to muffle the waves of sound as they assaulted her senses, suddenly second-guessing her choice of hiding-spot. Contemplating sneaking away, she was finding it hard to convince her body that trying to find a more ideal place of safety was paramount to her living to see the sunrise.

"It's a good thing the stories about your accuracy are also lies." Wheeljack snarled. The sound of his voice seeming to hover in the distance was starting to grate on her sense of control. His voice was hollow, echoing off the buildings, but not being able to see him was starting to alarm her, as if just the visual perception of him was enough to ensure her that her life wasn't now in very real danger.

"Fool. I did that on purpose."

There was a moment where Starscream was silent. Allison couldn't see what he was doing, but he appeared to be looking around, his head darting around quickly searching, and it was with a sick sense of foreboding that she knew what he was searching for. Without a word of warning he raised his canon and with an explosive burst fired a shot, even more charged than before, at one of the buildings to the left. The single jet of pure, powerful violet light hit the metal supports of the building dead-on. The vicinity of the shot nearly evaporated under the heat and pressure of the concentrated blast, and unable to support its own weight anymore the building collapsed to the ground. Metal beams that hadn't simply been melted crashed to the ground, kicking up an enveloping cloud of dirt and debris into the air. The noise alone was overpowering, and hidden underneath the commotion Allison covered her ears to try and drown out the horrific clamor.

Some of the building dust wafted in her direction, getting in her eyes, and she had to hold her breath through the worst of the cloud as it settled. She blinked the grit away irritably, tears burning her eyes, but she didn't dare move any more than what was absolutely necessary and silent. Wheeljack hadn't even so much as budged. Starscream seemed to nod slightly, almost admiringly.

"How cold of you," Starscream muttered after the noise finally died away, and the catastrophe settled.

"She's not anywhere near here", Wheeljack lied. "You can't scare me." To her it sounded convincing, but Starscream's subsequent snicker suggested he saw right through him.

"Really." Another blast fired, and this time Allison couldn't stop her body from jumping as the powerful woomph enveloped the night, reverberating throughout the remains of whatever structures still stood. This time it was on the other side of Wheeljack. The building fell to a similar fate, this one almost exploding in a display of charred, broken metal and wood. It was even harder to keep from choking on the dust that was clogging her airways, but she suffered, dawning realization hitting her like a runaway train. Starscream was trying to flush her out. Part of her wanted to let go of the scaffold and run, but Starscream would hear her if she moved, she was sure of it. And she knew she wouldn't get far should he decide to fire. No, she was better off standing her ground. Wheeljack had a plan, he had to.

He had to, or her only choices were to run or die. It wasn't like there were many more buildings for him to choose from.

"So... the human is either behind you..." he sneered, almost lazily, taking great care to draw out his words as if to put on a show just for her. He knew she was listening.

"Or she is... behind me..."

"No," she heard Wheeljack say with a start, and internally she felt her heart stop and literally sink into her body. Wheeljack, whether he liked it or not, had just given them away. If she wasn't convinced, then there was no way in hell that Starscream was. "She's not here." he continued, firmly in a desperate attempt to keep up his lie.

"The strain in your words tells me otherwise," Starscream replied, and to Allison's horror, he turned towards the wall she was ducked behind, and raised the canon on his arm slowly up at her. Through the tiny hole she saw his cruel smile, fierce red eyes seeming to see straight through the meager, half-finished piece of drywall. "You always were a bad liar..."

Hearing the whine of the laser preparing to fire, Allison turned and ran for her life. In the next instant her body was thrown forward by the heat and pressure as the wall she'd been near seconds before exploded in a spray of plaster and drywall. In the aftermath of the chaos, the unfinished room of the building was awash with a thick cloud of dust, which Allison tried to use as cover. She felt light-headed, but managed to drag her body behind a very large support beam.

Pressing her back against it, she felt there was enough commotion in the air that she could allow herself a brief anxiety attack. Gulping for air, she tried to stop her hands from shaking, but fear of another blast kept that idealized goal from becoming a reality.

Less than a second later there was an uproar of movement from the open air outside. Allison could hear what could only be described as two bulldozers trying to run each other over, the grinding and clanging of metal violently hitting metal sounding out of reach and distant. She risked a glance from around her shelter, and saw only a chaotic tangle of the two robotic bodies grappling for the upper-hand. Her sense of awe wanted her to stay and watch the physical altercation between the two, very massive robots who were destroying the construction site, but that was impossible. At this point, knowing this was her only chance to get away, Allison lunged out from behind the support beam, only making it a few running leaps towards the open air before she fell. She scrambled on her hands and knees, ducking under the metal beams and feeling the gritty concrete beneath her dig little pits into her palms. Somewhere outside, sounding almost far away inside her muted zone of deconstructed concrete, the fight rang out with the sounds of clashing metal and short shrieks, like two grindstones being pushed together.

Allison ducked her head under a block of concrete, moving her way through an almost tunnel-like maze, her eyes fixed on the bright block of moonlight at the end, and it was with a violent shock that it was cut off as the roof before her caved in. A massive wall of black crashed through the metal, flattening what must have been several tons of concrete slabs and thick metal beams like they were nothing, sending sprays of dirt and gravel up into the air around her. The ground shook, metal beams that had been balanced precariously above her shifting under the destructive activity, falling down around her. She lost her grip and slipped, landing flat on her stomach. Her eyes were focused in front of her, directly into the glowing, malevolent eyes of Starscream.

"There you are!" he shrieked, his vicious frown turned upwards into a sadistic grin, and his giant hand came down heavily near her. She screamed and tried to crawl away, feeling the force of his hand hit the ground as he missed her, sending her tumbling to the side. Scrambling, she dove under a small cylindrical tube just as another crunch of impact filled her ears. She risked less than a second to glance back at what was happening, and saw Wheeljack's combined fists come down hard onto Starscream's face. The Decepticon turned his attention away from her with a roar, trying to ward off another blow. Allison turned, not daring to linger, and continued to scramble frantically towards the light. The sounds of the battle continued to ring out behind her, and Allison had to wonder how this wasn't drawing human attention, or if it was, how long did they have before this place was swarming with vulnerable human bodies.

Finally she had to stop, for the tangle of equipment hindered her speed to a near bouncing walk. Looking back again, she could only see enough of their lower bodies to tell that Wheeljack had Starscream in a strangling hold, and they appeared to be struggling, spouting off an array of electronic growls and shrieking. Starscream finally brought his elbow back, brutally connecting with Wheeljack's middle section, and with a sonic blast transformed back into a fighter jet. The force of the explosion from his thrusters scorched the ground, sending rubble flying in the air and pushing Wheeljack backwards. He stumbled back, and managed to tuck into a heavy roll to avoid the rest of the onslaught, but Starscream was now up in the air and out of her vision.

Wheeljack suddenly turned and started to run, alarmingly fast for something of his size, just as Allison had finally broken free of her obstacles and had returned to her own panicked sprint. Wheeljack was barreling along at her side, but she could only see him out of the corner of her vision as his body disappeared and reappeared behind the colossal support beams. She was trying to concentrate on where she was running, not wanting to trip and smash into something that would undoubtedly kill her. The open air was very close, but in her terror she couldn't stop herself as a barrage of fire and shrapnel tore up the ground in Wheeljack's wake. Starscream was firing at him, and Allison had only a second to decide if running out into the open was a good idea or if it would be her death.

Wheeljack decided for her, lunging forward in a half-somersault, his entire body constricting inward in the process of transforming mid-air. He hit the ground and there was no hesitation, just as Allison emerged into the open. Without even thinking, and in the heat of the moment she lept into his passenger side just as he was sliding past. There was no time to recuperate or adjust, as she just pulled her legs in hoping they wouldn't be crushed by his door as he tore off. She could hear the thunderous roar of the jet, low and on their tail, crying out as it sailed above them and grew fainter. She could hear the far off shriek of Starscream as he flew away,

"FOOLS THIS ISN'T OVER!" his voice died away just as the final growls of his powerful engines subsided, leaving them both in very stunned silence. Allison was quite certain that her heart was going to thunder its way right out of her chest, and Wheeljack didn't seem any less exhilerated.

"W-w-what was that!" Allison finally had the nerve to pull herself up and was crying, half out of her mind with terror and trying to process everything she'd just seen. Wheeljack's muted reply only seemed distant, and not actually real.

"I hope that glitch crashes into a ditch," he said, and Allison was having a hard time accepting Wheeljack's oddly placed calm.

"Are you out of your mind-"

"Allison, now would be a good time for you to be of a chilled disposition."

"What are you even saying?" she didn't know why she was yelling at him, but she'd never been this afraid before. She didn't even know how to react to the events around her. What she'd just seen, and heard, it was unreal, it simply didn't happen-

"Allison you need to stop yelling or I can't concentrate." And it was the first time Wheeljack actually raised his voice at her, the volume and overall power of his words at near frightening levels all on their own. Immediately Allison shut down, biting down hard on her lip to stop herself from sobbing, which she knew would only exacerbate the situation. Wheeljack was driving fast, so instead she tried to look out the window and figure out where she was going, but her concentration was scattered and unfocused. She didn't know where her mind was at the moment.

"Let me out," she said quietly, her voice shaking and she was finding it impossible to even recognize the sound of her own voice at the moment.

"Ratchet is-" Wheeljack started but Allison cut him off abruptly.

"I don't care where Ratchet is, you have to stop and let me out right now. I need air."  
Wheeljack skid to a stop, fishtailing as his back end nearly hit the curb, but he didn't ask any more questions. Allison jumped out, feeling her legs shake as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. Doubling over, she held her head in her hands, trying to will away the imagery that had been burned into her brain. The violence was unthinkable, and seeing Wheeljack actually in combat for the first time... she was having a very hard time accepting what she'd just seen as nothing more than a nightmare.

She stood there for what felt like ages, just feeling the stillness of the air around her, letting it move through her hair. It felt almost surreal, like she shouldn't be standing there. A wave of relief, coupled with disbelief, washed over her as she tried to block out the notion that she had just narrowly escaped death.

The mechanical sound of Wheeljack shifting form broke the stillness of the air around her, and she felt his shadow stretch over her. A few short steps and he was standing beside her, the crunch of the ground beneath his heavy feet unnervingly loud in the empty space around them. Alison didn't look at him as he knelt down, merely staring dumbly ahead of her.

When Wheeljack spoke, his panels were very muted. "I know this is difficult, but we need to go..." he said.

Allison finally turned to look and met his empathetic expression. "I feel like throwing up."

"I'm not sure what this 'throwing up' is, but I have an idea how it must feel. It's an...unsettling feeling, no? I felt the same way the first time I engaged in combat." He stopped for a brief moment, looking blank, and Allison got the feeling he was communicating with Ratchet again. A moment later he confirmed her suspicion. "Ratchet engaged Soundwave a few moments ago."

"Did he kill him?"

"No. Soundwave eluded him and escaped. I think it would be wise for us to retreat for the time being while they are on us." Wheeljack said. His voice was gentle. He obviously understood the confusion Allison was feeling.

"Retreat? You seemed perfectly capable of fighting Starscream. I assume Soundwave is..." she finally said, finding her voice familiar again. Swallowing hard, she was trying to read something on Wheeljack's face, but his severe intensity was clouding out anything else that would have been visible there.

"A different matter entirely. Soundwave is too much for me and Ratchet alone. The old bot's lucky to still be alive…"

"I... I need to go home..." Allison said quietly, now feeling very drained of energy. She had to admit to herself that she was never going to truly get used to this. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to calm herself and rearrange all her disturbed mental capacities. She expected Wheeljack to fight her tooth and nail on this, but was surprised to hear his response.

"Okay." He seemed to hesitate, hand resting on the plates of his chest with tender care as if he was soothing his own heart. She didn't want to question him, fearing he would change his mind, so she stepped forward. She swayed on her feet, feeling as if her legs were foreign, but she was able to get her bearings quickly. Wheeljack transformed, and silently offered her the driver's seat, which she took with continuing dread hanging over her shoulders. Her head ached, and she rested it against the chair, allowing her eyes the opportunity to close.

Her lids were heavy, and she wasn't sure how long she dozed. The lulling murmur of Wheeljack's driving and internal pulse giving her some measure of comfort, and she was grateful for however long it would last.

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**02/27/2011 - Some changes here. I'm taking care to make Allison slightly less "screamy" but there are certain situations where I think having an escalated reaction is warranted, such as nearly getting trampled by Starscream for the first time.**


	19. Tempest

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
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There was an ear-piercing scream that jolted Allison awake and into the real world, and a brief ripple of anger that coursed through Wheeljack's body before a gigantic mass of metal came crashing down in front of them. The ground exploded beneath with the impact, and there was a seething hiss, followed by a jarring, furious voice-

"PATHETIC FOOLS! THERE IS NO ESCAPE!"

Both the words and the voice they elicited from was impossible to mistake; Starscream had returned for more. Allison barely had time to sit up before her body was fully awake, able to see Starscream's imposing form outside Wheeljack's front windshield. She had expected Starscream to be waiting for them. What she hadn't anticipated was for him to be waiting in the air and then come crashing down on top of them. This was just a cruel, cheap shock. It was an entirely new, and terrifying experience to see him from such a vantage point, so low on the ground and through what outwardly looked like a feeble sheet of glass. He raised both arms at them, and she could see the growing glow from the tips of his two massive cannons as he prepared to fire.

Allison's breath caught in her throat as Wheeljack's wheels spun, his body fleeing backwards as the violent bursts of searing energy struck the ground where he had been sitting, melting into the tarmac and leaving it bubbling and red hot. Wheeljack's door opened and Allison felt herself forced out onto the road as the Autobot transformed. No sooner had she hit the ground before she felt Wheeljack scoop her up again, flinging her body back just low enough on the ground to minimize the force of impact as she hit the road. Scrambling, she tried to ward off the disorientation as she stood, seeing only the back of Wheeljack clenching that same weapon as he blocked Starscream's line of fire. She didn't know if he intended for her to run or to stay put, but she started to flee as Wheeljack let off two shots, realizing with horror that this was all happening just outside her apartment building...

The shots hit Starscream in the chest twice, pushing him back a few thunderous steps so that she could now see his snarling face. The Decepticon looked startled, as if he actually hadn't expected Wheeljack to fight back. A few people came out of the apartment to see what the commotion was about, shouting loudly at the sight of the two mechanical creatures fighting, pointing and some of them even screaming. Wheeljack noticed them, and turned, pointing with purpose at them,

"NO! BACK INTO THE BUILDING!"

They had not escaped Starscream's notice either. The Decepticon grinned widely, and turned his guns to face the people clustered on their balconies in various states of dishevelment. Some of them recognized the threat for what it was and turned to retreat back into the building, for all the good it would actually do. Allison cried out in despair as he fired two shots towards the building, enveloping it in an enormous explosion. The people disappeared in flame, and giant chunks of concrete and balls of fire filled the air. Allison could only cover her head in a meager attempt to protect her body, as she stood in a horrified daze. A single chunk assaulted the ground near her feet and spurred her to action.

Turning to run as panic shot up her spine, Allison vaulted with awkward grace over the hood of a car resting on the opposite end of the street. She covered her body with her arms as the flaming chunks pelted her shield with heavy clangs of impact. The violent heat hit her skin, the acid smell of burning paint stung her nose and filled her mouth; the stench of death enveloped her as chunks of searing rubble and tiny meteors of flame hit the ground like a rain shower from Hell. Time seemed to slow and stretch for minutes, when in reality it had only taken seconds for the building to evaporate in the inferno.

There was a monumental crunch of metal as the final bits of shrapnel hit the ground; the sound of Wheeljack's body being thrown to the asphalt from Starscream's vicious swipe of his powerful arms. Allison felt the earth move as Wheeljack made impact with the ground in a burst of sparks just feet from her improvised shelter. His arm slammed into the hood of the car, causing it to lurch upwards like a startled beast as the weight of his body bent the metal shell like tinfoil. Allison was thrown forward as the frame of the car hit her back with the force of his body, sending her sprawling face-first into the heated cement. Allison was unfazed, and fearing for Wheeljack's safety she scrambled to her feet and stumbled around the front of the car in a half-crouch where the Autobot's head was on the ground. For a moment he didn't stir, and Allison instinctively moved towards him in a feeble attempt to come to his aid. At her touch on his head, Wheeljack stirred to life. He was stunned and disoriented with the fall, his arms grasping for something around him-his gun-that he couldn't quite reach. His eyes were searing white, glowing like high-beams in the wavering light of the flames that created muted shadows on the street.

With a heavy gasp, Allison froze where she knelt at Wheeljack's ridged head, transfixed with what was before her. In her concern for Wheeljack, Starscream had been momentarily forgotten, but she could fully see him now as a vision of the hellish conquest that surrounded him. His massive frame grew in size, dwarfing Allison and the paralyzed Autobot on the ground as he walked towards them with heavy steps. Each thunderous crunch of his feet was an agonizing punch back into the moment as she found herself dazed with uncertain horror. The Decepticon was looking at her with feverish interest, arms raised towards them to finalize his kill.

"See what your Autobot friend has done human? He has brought only death to you," Starscream laughed, a deep, throaty rumble of pleasure as his eyes met hers. Allison was startled to hear him speak to her directly, to direct his threat at her specifically and she shrank back from his penetrating blood red gaze. Wheeljack was stirring as he struggled to overcome the solid fins on his back that seemed to now be a detriment as he tried to flip over. He wouldn't make it. Allison came to this horrifying conclusion as Starscream smiled at her, his red eyes flicking downwards to survey the vulnerable Autobot on the ground before him. There was what could only be described as joy on the Decepticons face as the cables of his neck twitched with anticipation. Allison felt her breath catch in her throat, bracing for death.

"It's a pity you weren't of more use Allison Teeghan, but I've grown bored of you. Your services are no longer required," and as he was about to fire, Allison closed her eyes to await her fate. But when the duration of time extended to abnormally long lengths, followed by a furious howl of anger from above, she opened them to see something she would have never expected. Starscream was frozen stiff, eyes wide in stupefied shock as both his raised arms seemed to be encompassed with a powerfully bright glow. He attempted to struggle, but appeared as if he no longer had control of his arms. They were locked in place bymassive blankets of light that crackled, tendrils of lightning shooting out and snaking along his body, the source of said light from behind him-

Starscream shrieked as his body was literally lifted from the ground, only to be hurled backwards in a wide arch and thrown downwards. His body hit the road with a sickening crunch, bouncing along the length of the pavement with the crunching of denting metal plates and a burst of sparks each time his body connected.

Standing now in their direct vision, was Ratchet, his fists clenched, those electrified blades she remembered seeing earlier exposed and sizzling with pulsing energy. His body was turned to face the Decepticon who was struggling to get to his feet. Wheeljack's head for just a brief second dipped towards Allison, before he labored to a stand. He went to Ratchet's side, retrieving his weapon from the ground and holstering it back into his back as his fins whirled back into place. Starscream was finally regaining his composure, looking very furious and offended at the audacity of the two Autobots who now had him outnumbered.

"You really know how to time your entrances," she heard Wheeljack grumble, but not entirely begrudgingly. Ratchet only snorted indifferently

"It's a talent." He grunted, raising his arms threateningly at the Decepticon, who by that point was now babbling incoherently, shrieking a garbled mess of what must have been a mixture of Cybertronian and very broken English. There was another explosion as something ignited from below his feet, a rush of air and noise engulfing the street as he rose into the air. The wind from the blast kicked up Allison's hair and sprayed grit at her body that bit into her skin. With a final shriek, Starscream shot up into the air, transforming and retreating into the darkness of the sky.

The two Autobots watched the Decepticon jet fleeing. Allison somberly stared at the smoldering crater that was once her apartment. There was nothing left, not even a shell. Just a huge hole in the ground and scattered debris. Small indiscernible objects burned; Allison cared not to stare closer at them in fear of what she would make out. In the background sirens could be heard. Ratchet looked at Allison.

"We need to leave."

Allison didn't respond.

"I said we must leave, Allison. Now."

Allison nodded slightly. "And where, Ratchet, do I go? That was my home." Her voice dropped to a saddened whisper. "That was a lot of people's homes."

Ratchet shook his head. "Allison, I understand how you must feel, but listen to me. We have to go."

Allison snorted. "Like hell you understand."

"Actually, I do," Ratchet said, a hint of anger in his voice.

"You didn't lose your apartment."

"You didn't lose your whole planet." Ratchet was seething, but he quickly quelled his anger. "We leave now, Allison. If you want to stay and watch this pile of slag burn, fine. Be my guest."

Allison looked away. She felt ashamed at her outburst, but wasn't ready to apologize yet. "Fine."

Wheeljack had been quiet this whole time. Eventually he transformed into his vehicle form, his engine gunning. "We need to find some place safer..." He said finally, voice unnaturally quiet. "I'll be in touch... Ratchet, look after her please." He took off quickly before Allison could ask him where he was going. He was unusually distant, as if lingering around them at that moment was too much to bear. With a small shake of his head, Ratchet followed suit and transformed too. He swung around and the door to his back compartment swung open. "Get in."

Feeling a bit unsettled at Wheeljack's suddenly departure, Allison didn't argue as she climbed into Ratchet's back cabin. She sat down on one of the padded benches and stared gloomily forward. "I'm sorry, Ratchet."

"We all are." He drove off, his engine rumbling as the two left the devastation behind. In the side-mirror, Allison saw glowing emergency lights arrive at the scene, the sirens becoming less audible as they grew further and further apart.

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**02/27/2011- Some major changes ahead. I changed how this chapter ended. Initially, it just read very funny and unnatural, and ended on kind of a cop-out with her losing consciousness. I've tried to make it flow a little better.**


	20. Ratchet

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
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There was silence for a long while as Ratchet and Allison drove away from the shattered remains of what used to be her existence. After a time where they continued in stiff silence, Allison had felt comfortable enough to lie down on the padded bench in Ratchet's back cabin. The events if the evening had left her thoroughly tired. She didn't sleep however, being far too disquieted by the images replaying in her mind. Instead, she simply stared straight into Ratchet's side as the continued onward. Where they were going, she had no idea.

"Where did Wheeljack go?" Allison finally asked. The abruptness of his departure still weighed heavily on her mind. She was concerned for him, and his sudden absence was a void that needed to be filled with something, even if it was just idle conversation with Ratchet.

"You were there Allison. He is looking for a secondary location to take you. It's too risky in that barn, in such close proximity to where Starscream-"

"-Murdered all my neighbors," she said with muted bitterness, surprised to here it so quickly slip from her mouth. There was nothing that could be done now. Death was quickly becoming a normal part of the routine, and while she couldn't just dismiss it as nothing, there came a time when one became desensitized to it. Or at least, able to file it away to look back on when the time was more appropriate. Allison was actually surprised, that at that moment she felt next to no emotion at all. There was nothing. Only a cold, empty hole where she thought she should have felt something for them but it wasn't there.

"There is nothing that can be said for what he did… but there wasn't a thing that you could've done to stop it. You can't blame yourself. If it hadn't been them, it would have been another human aircraft, or a stadium full of people, or another building…. You know that," he said delicately. His voice felt entirely new within the space she now occupied in his back compartment, seeming to come from everywhere it once. It was surprisingly full of warmth.

"I… know that… but… these were people I saw every day… in the hallways… coming back from shopping, getting their mail, bringing their kids back-" There it was, a stirring of overwhelming guilt that hit her suddenly in the heart like an arrow. She faltered, trying to regain herself, not wanting to cry in front of Ratchet. Crying in front of one sentient robot had been enough.

"-from school…" she offered after a few moments. She wondered if Ratchet would have told her that regardless of what she'd said, or how she'd outwardly appeared to feel about it. It didn't really matter now, so Allison swallowed hard to squash it away. Getting emotional wouldn't bring those people back.

"I think I know what it is," Ratchet finally spoke after a few more moments of silence, but he may as well have been talking to himself. When he offered nothing further Allison decided to throw caution to the wind.

"What is what?" she asked, and the air around her seized as if Ratchet had been startled. He grunted, sounding like something mechanical stopping and starting very suddenly.

"I think you two are more similar than you might think," he said, but he was clearly holding back what was really on his mind. Ratchet was always holding something back.

"What?"

There was a release of air like a stopper being opened; an exhalation as Ratchet considered his response.

"You two are both stubborn for one thing-"

"Stubborn?" she asked, slightly offended.

"Yes, you are, and don't even bother trying to deny it. And I think you both have more sentimentality in you than you know what to do with," he said. "Which is why the two of you keep blaming yourselves for everything." Ratchet said gruffly.

"I don't think he blames himself,"

"Of course he does Allison. Which is why he would have gotten himself killed back there if he hadn't managed to relay that distress signal first"

Allison wriggled against the firm cushion of the pseudo bed she was laying on, wincing as her shoulder protested with a lance of pain that shot across her upper body; Where the car had hit her and Wheeljack had landed. She had wondered why Wheeljack didn't fight back, but had seemingly just given up. She'd just assumed that he knew Ratchet was coming, but that didn't exactly explain why he'd hesitated.

"The glitch panicked," Ratchet continued, when Allison didn't have anything further to add.

"Why would he panic? He seemed more than able to fight Starscream off earlier…"

Ratchet cycled air roughly, which was audible even when he was in this form. It was like the whole cabin depressurized.

"I told him it would come to that, but that's what happens when one lets their bonds cloud their judgment. You were vulnerable then, you both were, and quite simply he was going to get himself killed thinking he was protecting you. Idiotic if you ask me, seeing as Starscream would have just murdered you both anyway…"

"I... I don't want him to get killed over me." Allison said with some alarm. Being responsible for Wheeljack's death was a whole other issue she did not want to be a part of. Having humans die because some Decepticon wanted to torture her was enough, but surely Wheeljack didn't deserve that kind of punishment too.

"There's something you probably need to hear, but it isn't exactly easy to explain to someone who's already influenced by your own primitive understanding of things," he started, and willing to pretend she wasn't irritated by his accusatory remark, she let him continue without interrupting. "And while our social organization is similar enough, which is why it was relatively easy for us to adapt to your planet, there are some things that are very different…" Ratchet hesitated, as if he was about to impart something of great importance to her.

"I know he's different, I get that," Allison started, but Ratchet interrupted her.

"No, let me finish," Ratchet huffed, slightly irritated. "Out of all the years I've known Wheeljack, there's not been many times when he hasn't acted on impulse. Wheeljack's intelligent; maybe even more so than me. But he was never one to necessarily fully think things through, and like I told you before, has always been completely fearless even when faced with unfair odds…" he trailed off, noticeably intending to continue and Allison wasn't sure if it was appropriate to interrupt him for the sake of asking the questions that were on her mind. So she didn't, faintly starting to realize what Ratchet was explaining to her, and starting to feel alarmingly uncomfortable in the process.

"When he relayed that distress call to me… there was definite fear. I've never heard that before, and I've known Wheeljack a very, very long time…" It was hard not to notice the hesitance in his words.

"Are you trying to say he's in love with me?" Allison blurted, quite stupidly, and with a start mentally slapped herself for just coming out and saying something she'd been thinking for a very long time. Ratchet made a noise that sounded very much like a cough.

"Primus, no. See? You're letting your own human customs screw up with your perceptive nodes-"

"But I am human Ratchet-"

"That's beside the point. Think like you're talking about an alien, because you are. You're trying to perceive a very real Cybertronian emotion, that can't even be directly translated in your language, as a concept you're somewhat comfortable with, but that isn't going to work. A Sparkbond is not love as you would call it, but it is an emotional attachment that goes beyond any physical connection. Your species, or this planet for that matter, defines love as a means to a reproductive end, but that's not what this is."

Allison was silent, thinking this over. Ratchet took her silence as confusion, rightfully so.

"Since you appear completely confused let me put it this way. In our species, we do not reproduce in the same way that you do, but that's a conversation for another day entirely," Allison raised a questioning eyebrow, wondering just when that type of conversation was actually important, but before she could think on it more she realized he was talking again. "Our social structure is similar to yours, but at the same time our concepts of connecting with others is very different. We do have varying degrees of friendship and camaraderie. I suppose in the Autobot faction, you would say we are all friends, or even family, and that I'm guessing you would say is the concept of a 'brotherhood'. We are all very close to one another and trust each other implicitly with our lives. But above even that, the idea of a Sparkbond is very special, and if it does happen, only happens once in our lifetime. It is a connection that is so tangible and deeply tangled into our emotional processors, that if that connection were to ever be severed, either by force, or even death, the other would be left very damaged."

It was easy to understand essentially what Ratchet was saying, but it was hard to wrap that around a solid example to try and convince her brain to fully get it. Allison was trying to come up with a human example for what he was describing to her, but it was difficult. The only things she could really think of were familial examples, and since she assumed that the Autobots weren't necessarily all related to one another, and Wheeljack most certainly was not related to her in any way, it didn't quite fit- But maybe it did. If she thought back to her mother, and even what she could remember of her grandmother, she knew that there was a concept of love there that obviously wasn't physical. It was an instinctive love, unconditional and deeply rooted in their behavior. Was that what he was trying to get across?

It sure sounded like love, but something very different at the same time. It was just a feeling, and nothing more. One that meant you would risk all for the sake of another. If she couldn't apply love to it, in any use of the word at all, then she didn't know what could be used.

"There are twins in the Autobot faction, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe…" Ratchet said, startling Allison back into realizing that he was still there. "And they are twins merely by a glitch when their Sparks formed and split into two, but if you want a real world example there it is."

"But I haven't met them Ratchet…" she said faintly.

"Then I will explain them to you. They are insufferable, glitch-headed, idiots who will get you killed if you ever decide to run around with them. But they are bonded, and as such, they are inseparable, and an ordeal to be around when one of them is hurt. Prime has learned that there is no point trying to split them up on missions, because one will inevitably disobey all his orders to leave his assignment and meet up with his brother. They might as well be finishing each other's sentences for how in tune they seem to be with each other's emotional states. A rare, and altogether fascinating occurrence in our species, and it would be even more so if they weren't such a pain in the aft. But I don't think Prime ever foresaw it happening here, most especially with the native life."

"It's happened before?" Allison asked. It was a weird feeling, knowing she would face Wheeljack again with the sentiment that he had been perfectly okay with getting himself killed over her. Silly, insignificant her, who months before had been working behind a desk with no real aspirations for anything more than her already ludicrous salary. It made her feel slightly selfish, and thinking back, she was now just starting to realize that with the apartment building gone, so too was all her worldly possessions. That was a startling revelation indeed, but surprisingly, she didn't feel anything.

"It has, a couple times," Ratchet said, and as he was clearly not going to name names, she didn't think to press any further. Instead she glanced at the floor of Ratchet's cabin, trying to look indifferent by drawing patterns on the padded surface of the bench with her fingertips. "I'm not telling this to upset you, I'm telling you this because I think you have a right to know. I don't think Prime knew this was going to happen, but Wheeljack has always been a strange, unpredictable character. The fact that he has bonded to you wasn't by choice, it merely happened, and there was nothing that could have stopped it. This is just as hard for him to make sense of as it is for you. Because it is so new to him, he's confused, and that is why he hesitated. Cybertronian scientists have spent many millenia trying to figure out just what inherent change in our processors and genetic coding triggers it, but they've never been successful. He is still Wheeljack, that is all you have to know. That and the fact that he will most certainly die if it means letting you live. But that also means that he will do anything to ensure that you don't get killed. Does that make sense?"

"Is that why Wheeljack left?" Allison asked, feeling confident in her own assumptions. Aside from her and Ratchet arguing, it now seemed feasible that he'd left to avoid more than that.

"I think there are a few reasons why Wheeljack removed himself from that situation. He wanted to be alone so that he could think. That's what he does. His thoughts are often too many steps ahead of everything around him for his own good, and he needs to process that. But what he's doing is for your benefit, so don't assume that you're being blamed. Just give him a little bit of time. He'll be back."

Allison nodded to herself. "I guess that makes sense." In reality he didn't owe her an explanation, regardless of how much she might have wanted one. Despite everything he had already done for her, he didn't truly owe her anything. He didn't even need to be there if he didn't want to. While this was something of a saddening thought, it wasn't something she could demand like a petulant child.

"We might as well get a move on the next objective. Besides, you need to eat," Ratchet finally said after some silence. Moving her thoughts aside, Allison rubbed her stomach, realizing that she was in fact very hungry, and couldn't actually remember the last time she'd eaten. But after their conversation, she couldn't stop her thoughts from constantly drifting back to Wheeljack, who was out there alone. She would have been lying if she denied that she missed him, but she understood his need to be by himself. Ratchet seemed to sense her thoughts when he next spoke.

"Don't worry. I there's one thing Wheeljack is, it's dependable. He'll be there."

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**02/27/2011 - This chapter saw a major change in where the characters were, and I changed the dialogue a bit. Also, I gave Wheeljack a reason to leave, sort of like it's the first moment he's realized he's Sparkbonded and doesn't know what to make of it. So in his confusion he finds an excuse to retreat.**

**As a reminder, the concept of a "Sparkbond" as I'm calling it, is not meant to be construed as being anything slashy or even romantic in any way. So there will be no pairing here, just continuous fluff.. =P **


	21. Some Time on the Road

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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They'd been driving for several hours before Allison, who's internal clock was now completely thrown out of order, had fallen asleep on Ratchet's on passenger bench. They'd paused briefly for Allison to transfer to the front of the vehicle, as she'd eventually started to get disoriented and claustrophobic being shut up in the back with very little in the way of windows. Ratchet had not spoken for a while, and leaning against the window staring out at endless stretches of highway had long ago ceased to be entertaining, and only helped add to her mounting fatigue. In fact, after their discussion about Wheeljack, Ratchet had offered little in the way of verbal discourse, and despite having the intention of comforting her when he did choose to speak, it only left her feeling awkward and uncomfortable. He was even worse at idle socialization than Wheeljack, and encouragement from him had all the natural cheerfulness of a funeral director telling you how nice your socks looked. She could tell he was trying his best, but after a few stilted attempts at conversation, he'd finally clammed up and they hadn't spoken much for the last few hours. Perhaps he sensed her declining stamina, and had just opted not to disturb her.

There hadn't been time to stop and recover some of Allison's belonging or change into fresh clothes, so she remained to the sooty, torn clothing that was now going on its second day. She desperately wanted a shower and to wash her tangled hair, but had not yet built up enough of a rapport with Ratchet to have the courage to ask him to stop.

It was after four hours of driving past flat, green meadows and grazing cows that Allison became disgruntled to discover she had been completely wrong about the storage facility only being a few hours away. The sky was overcast and grey, which only reflected her mood. Spending six hours with Ratchet wasn't something she was naturally optimistic about, but so far it had been better than she'd first feared. The quiet certainly helped, and his wide front bench was comfortable, and lulled her into a hazy stupor where she could clear her mind and simply be. But after a while, despite all that roominess and relative comfort, she eventually felt the need to get out and stretch her legs.

At first Ratchet had vehemently resisted, but had finally relented after Allison threatened to mess with his siren panel until he caved. This he did not appreciate, so finally, if only to shut her up, he pulled over to the side of the road and opened his door for her.

Allison climbed out and arched her back, raising her arms above her head and stretching. Such a simple action felt amazingly good, and she savored it while knowing it was probably going to be a while before she managed to sufficiently threaten Ratchet again. She was surprised to hear him transform, and turned just as he stood with a mighty groan. He too looked like he needed a good stretch, his back slightly arched, eyes semi shuttered against the waning light in the distance. Inevitably he saw her airy, confused stare and grunted, reaching up for his right shoulder and rotating it.

"What? A mech's gotta work out the kinks too..." he mumbled, finishing with that shoulder and continuing on to the other. She continued to stare at him and his eyes shifted to suggest he was rolling them. "Imagine if you had to crouch and stay that way for six hours straight, and I had to ride inside you. You'd feel exactly the same way."

Allison couldn't help but laugh a little at the mental image, and she turned to look out over the field. A particularly mournful looking cow raised its head to stare back at her for a moment, before returning to its banquet of grass and dirt. What a life it must be, to be a cow, Allison thought. Nothing but the grass, the air and the birds. With the picturesque scenery of distant mountains and the occasional windmill slowly turning in the wind, it was a peaceful scene. If not drearily dull.

"I know those creatures", Ratchet said, walking up beside her. "That's a plow, right?"

"Cow, but you were close. I take it you don't have cows on Cybertron?" she asked, peering up at him with interest. He wasn't looking at her, but seemed to be studying the field in front of them. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and for a minute he almost looked completely serene. Allison watched him, frowning playfully, wondering how on Earth Ratchet could suddenly appear so harmless. Eventually he noticed this and returned her stare, blinking wearily. He must really be tired, she thought, and suddenly she had waning notions that she was a burden to not only Wheeljack, but to Ratchet too.

Allison returned her stare to the cow, not truly looking at it, but wanting to be looking at anything other than his eyes, which were studying her rather carefully.

"No. There are no fields on Cybertron. But there's a lot of planets out there that do, and you'd be surprised how similar they are the Earth." He finally said after a few moments, perhaps sensing her disturbance and wanting to fill the silence for her benefit.

"They have cows too?" she returned gratefully.

"No, but they do have stupid animals that do nothing but eat and sleep..." he snorted, attempting to make a joke and Allison couldn't stop the half-smile that crept across her face. It uplifted her mood a little, and she felt brave enough to take a jab at him.

"A bit like you then, huh?" she twittered, smiling innocently.

Ratchet stared at her for a moment, before making a lazy attempt to swat her with the back of his hand.

"Young punk. Just wait till you're my age."

"I don't think I'll live quite that long." Allison laughed, surprised at his sudden playfulness as she danced away from his next attack, scattering stones and bits of gravel on the side of the road. He smirked, narrowing his eyes as he always did when he found even the slightest bit of amusement out of a situation. Allison felt just a little trickle of pride that she had managed to make Ratchet smile with surprisingly little effort

Ratchet eventually turned to stare over at the meadow again, cycling air heavily. "Probably a good thing..." He sounded slightly serious, and as quickly as that the mood took a spiraling downturn. Ratchet didn't appear to want to continue that thread of conversation judging by the sudden rigidness of his face, so Allison decided to leave it at that. She followed his gaze out over the field, wondering about what kind of things Ratchet must have seen in his time. The different planets he'd seen. It was impossible to even begin to imagine it. Allison couldn't tell if the hard set in his jaw meant he was merely lost in thought or upset about something, and it was with subtle stabs of sadness that Allison realized there would be no sense to ask him what was on his mind.

Perhaps someday she'd be just that brave enough, to try peeling away the layers to find exactly what the medic was hiding. Remembering too what Wheeljack had said about Ratchet being a brick wall held back her questions, so she said nothing, content to just sit there and watch the sullen, creeping windmills at Ratchet's side.

"They didn't have visions like this back on Cybertron..." he said, almost wistfully with a sigh in his voice. "Come on," he said eventually. "Time to get moving." He raised an eye ridge at her gently, reacting to her lofty, appreciative gaze. Realizing she was staring Allison quickly turned her eyes back to the dirt, absently kicking a stone with her foot as she felt a blush coming on. Ratchet was certainly a difficult character to figure out, but as she was spending more time with him, she was starting to find him more and more complicated than ever. It only made her want to know more.

Allison climbed back aboard once he'd transformed, and for the rest of the way she slept a little easier. She noted that Ratchet had a very different feel to him than Wheeljack did when they were driving, and while the sounds of the car itself weren't all that different if not a little bit deeper, it was the feel of the space itself that was notable. Wheeljack had a very vibrant, energetic feel to sitting at the wheel, and while Ratchet felt no less alive, the air of his space felt weighed down with years of hardship. It wasn't depressing, but had an aged, wizened feel that would only come from someone who'd seen and felt a great deal. Those thoughts occupied her until her stomach once again gurgled loudly, having been quite a few hours since she'd eaten just before heading out on the road. Ratchet lurched back subtly in response, and Allison felt herself go warm with nervous embarrassment.

"Primus, do you humans ever stop refueling?" he complained, but there was a tint of sarcasm in his voice that suggested he was merely teasing her. It didn't ease the reddening heat that she could feel creeping across her face, not enjoying such close scrutiny that was out of her control. That was one thing she would never get used to, knowing that at any given moment Ratchet likely had a very intimate understanding of her bodily functions.

"Erm...no..." she stammered, looking out at the road as a sign displaying the next batch of fast-food restaurants passed them by. Allison looked at them longingly, willing to eat anything at that moment just to feel sated. Ever since they'd come along, her normal routines, especially eating habits had been thrown completely into disarray, and she found herself hungry often. This puzzled Wheeljack to no end, but it was the first time she was having to face it while being alone with Ratchet. "Just stop at one of those burger places," she said pointedly, motioning to yet another sign that directed them to the next turn off and tapping on his window for effect.

"You're not eating that garbage," he said caustically, and he sped up just slightly, as if to intentionally pass by the exit as quickly as possible just to torture her and prove a point. Allison furrowed her brow.

"What do you expect me to eat, grass? It isn't like there's many options way out here... just stop at a gas station and I'll do you a favor and buy an apple," she said, with just a little bit of disdain. Fantastic, now Ratchet was going to be giving her a nutritional regimen to follow.

"You think you're rather smart, don't you?" he said tersely, and Allison could have sworn that she heard him chuckle underneath all that growling, but it could have been her ears making nothing out of the sounds of his engine.

Mercifully, Ratchet finally stopped at the next gas station, stopping spaztically with a great squeal of tires underneath the fuel pump overhang. The lights above her twinkled cheerfully amongst the sudden rain drops that had begun, but the cheerfulness was not shared. Ratchet's noisy, unusual arrival had not gone unnoticed by those who were in the midst of refueling their cars, causing Allison to do her best to appear as if she hadn't noticed anything at all. If the curious stares directed at the mangled girl climbing out of the ambulance weren't enough, she'd had to endure even more puzzled looks at the overall tattered state of her clothing. It had been a long time since she'd been able to look into a mirror, but after glancing at herself through the reflection in the glass doors of the market, she'd come to realize how truly tattered she'd looked.

Under normal circumstances, Allison probably would have cared about the state of her clothing, but frankly she could no longer be bothered. She was hungry and that was all she cared about. She hastily grabbed an assortment of packaged items that would be easy to eat on the road, dimly wondering what kind of reaction she was going to get from Ratchet at the sight of all the processed food. The boy behind the counter didn't look too pleased to put down his comic book as she threw her cash down, and he blinked distractedly at her as she gratefully took her change from him in a rush.

"Are you quite finished now?" Ratchet said moodily. Allison tapped the steering wheel in mock offense.

"Oh shush you..." she said, and with that Ratchet made a show of "starting" the engine (which was more of a violent roar than anything else) and they left the gas station behind.  
That had been a few hours ago, and Allison now dozed in the relative comfort of Ratchet's cabin. She had no idea how much time had actually passed since she'd fallen asleep, but soon Ratchet's voice in the silence jarred her awake.

"Wake up sleepy," he said, his voice loud enough to make her jump. Her heart pounded for a few lingering minutes as she struggled to blink the remnants of sleep from her eyes. Finally she was conscious enough to realize that Ratchet was no longer driving, and he was actually parked outside of a building.

"Is Wheeljack here?" she mumbled groggily, the first thought that came to mind as she looked around, hoping to see Wheeljack near them, but he wasn't. A sting of saddened disappointment crept up her stomach and through her chest as her thoughts turned to Wheeljack. She wanted to know where he was, and how he was doing... if he was upset with her somehow. Not knowing was the hardest part. How long had he been gone? With pangs of longing, she realized with a small start, that she actually strongly missed Wheeljack now that he was absent. It gnawed at her annoyingly.

"No, he's not, but he will be soon," Ratchet said comfortingly, but didn't offer anything more. Burying her feelings, Allison looked around, trying to figure out where they were. They weren't outside the storage facility, that was for sure, but instead Ratchet had parked outside of what looked like a decently cheerful roadside motel. Why they were there she had no idea.

"What's this all about?" she managed, realizing with a grimace that she was hungry again. She studied the motel more, and found that it actually looked quite clean and pleasant. It was dark out, and fumbling with her bag she finally managed to pull out her cell phone. She was surprised to see it well past two in the morning.

"I assume you would like a chance to rest where there are a few less Cybertronians wandering around you…" he said calmly, and Allison was startled to hear something so thoughtful coming from Ratchet. Maybe spending this time with him had been a good thing after all, and if Ratchet was actually thinking about her need for privacy, then Allison wasn't quite sure what to say.

"Is it… safe?" she asked, wondering if they really should be stopping somewhere for the night instead of staying on the move. She got the impression that Ratchet shrugged, like a great all encompassing movement of his body that she could actually feel like a tremor.

"We'll be fine, just don't use your plastic card in there," he said, and Allison smirked as she realized he was talking about her credit cards. It made sense, thinking it possible that if they were looking for it, the Decepticons would likely be able to track the card activity. Given what she'd been through so far, she wasn't about to presume that was beyond their reach.

"Wheeljack will be here in the morning. In the meantime, I'd like you to be able to sleep in a proper recharge berth after everything that's happened, as opposed to on the floor… or Wheeljack's back seat."

"Gosh, I don't know what to say," Allison said, feeling a rush of gratitude. Sleeping in an actual bed and a chance to have a proper shower was actually quite tempting…

"You can start by doing what I asked and get moving," he grumbled, but Allison knew better than to assume that he was actually irritated. It was nice to feel confident that she could get at least a little better of a feel for Ratchet's standard methods. She just smiled to herself, knowing that this was as close to outwardly endearing as Ratchet was ever going to get. She grabbed her stuffed bag and climbed out, jolted as she hit the ground from such an odd height. Walking out, she turned to look at Ratchet for some type of assurance but he was silent. A very odd sight to behold, and at least a little bit intimidating. An ambulance sitting alone in a deserted parking lot, in the middle of nowhere looked quite out of place. Perhaps it was his size, or just the fact that the vehicle was so unusual, but it wouldn't have mattered regardless. Allison was beginning to understand that as long as they looked the part people would just assume as much; that an ambulance did happen to be out of its element.

Despite Ratchet's presence however, Allison was beginning to feel very exposed and alone in the parking lot. She was reduced to darting her gaze around, half expecting a jet to come screaming over head, or a large blue car to come tearing around the building after her. It was quiet. Being such an odd hour there was hardly a soul out, next to no cars, and the wind was the only real source of disturbance that every so often would kick up a stray leaf or piece of trash. It picked up Allison's hair, and felt mildly comforting as she walked to the management office, if not for her otherwise paranoid state that had her suspicious of everything around her.

Thankfully the little hotel had vacancy, and the cheerful old woman behind the counter was more than happy to offer her a room. At first when Allison walked in, the woman regarded her uneasily, the state of her clothing likely giving a weird, perhaps even bad impression, but Allison had tried to keep her expression even. As soon as Allison shared her intentions the woman became slightly more cheerful, but perhaps she just wanted her money, she couldn't be sure. Despite any initial mistrust, she was more than happy to give away one of the rooms she had available.

Allison didn't have enough cash on her to cover the cost, and using her cards was still not an option unless she actually wanted Starscream to drop on her in the middle of the night. No, that wouldn't work, but thankfully she had her old, archaic check book smashed at the bottom of her bag. She figured at least that would give her more time should they be thinking to look for a check being cashed, which arguably would take days to process anyway.

The first order of business was the need to wash her clothes. As she walked to her given room, she spied a laundry room tucked away down a short covered walkway that separated the management office from the long string of doors. Ratchet hadn't moved, and outwardly it was hard to tell if he was watching her or not, but as she opened her door she wondered if the nagging feeling against her neck was a sign that he was definitely looking. It was almost a relief when she was able to close the door and take in her much needed privacy, although she could imagine him staring daggers into the door itself. It was a likely possibility that he could scan the room anyway, but she thought she'd fool herself into thinking she had privacy regardless. What she couldn't see or hear wouldn't bother her.

As a whole the room itself was much nicer than anything she'd come to expect from cheap highway motels. The bedding looked fresh and comfortable, the carpet was thankfully clean, the TV looked relatively new, and the walls were plastered with decorative floral paper and a few, obviously reproduced painting of fruit bowls. The femininity of the room over all was a little bit of a shock, but it made her think back and wonder if the woman at the office was actually the owner. Wouldn't have been a surprise, but the overall comfort was certainly welcome. At this point though, after sleeping on the floor, and constantly waking up to Wheeljack hovering over her like a worried mother hen she would have settled for anything.

Her next stop was the bathroom, which thankfully was just as clean, and the shower was looking very enticing. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a chance to even bathe much less shower, so that she looked forward to with relish. That felt like a good place to start, so Allison started running the water, and couldn't imagine something as mundane as steam lifting up from the growing pool of hot water suddenly looking so beautiful. While she waited, she wandered back to the single window that looked out at the parking lot and pulled the curtain to the side.

Wheeljack's absence was felt in such a way that she was actually starting to get rather scared. He hadn't contacted her on her phone, she would have noticed that, and as far as she knew he hadn't spoken to Ratchet in a while. Although, Ratchet didn't seem concerned, but then again would he tell her? Would he even say anything if Wheeljack had checked in? He had said Wheeljack would be there in the morning, so it stood to reason that perhaps the two Autobots had been in contact. There was no way to know for sure, and given the last few days and Ratchet's changing mood, he was about as unpredictable as a hurricane.

If he had contacted Ratchet, had he asked about her?

Allison shook her head with a heavy sigh, resigning to trust Ratchet's judgment and just wait. Instead, she had a bath to look forward to. She took her time getting cleaned up, since she knew she likely wasn't going to have a chance to do it again. It gave her a chance to reflect on everything and to look ahead, to wonder what on earth was going to happen to her; to them. If she were to make it out of this alive, what would come next? She no longer had a home, all her material possessions had been lost in the demolition of her apartment building, and the only thing she actually had was whatever had been in her bag at the time. Thankfully she'd had the foresight to keep her ID and bank account information and cards with her, and given that Wheeljack had altered the companies records long ago to ensure she was registered as being on extended medical leave, she still had consistent income.

It was little, and the prospect of having to start over was daunting, and of course, hard to think about when there was always the possibility of certain death hanging over one's head. Starscream had already made it clear he was only interested in killing them now, and Soundwave's motives were still unclear. At this point she wouldn't be surprised if this Megatron decided to send the entire Decepticon army after them, and frankly she was surprised he hadn't done it already. At this point she had to wonder if Starscream was even working for Megatron at all. It had seemed odd that he'd been so quick to kill them, when they were supposedly needing information. Starscream certainly seemed the type.

By the end of her once, soothing bath, all the thoughts of Starscream had left her feeling even more uncomfortable and exposed than before, despite knowingly being alone. What had turned into a peaceful bathing session inevitably became somber and depressing. Eventually she decided to just shut everything out of her mind. She closed her eyes and stared at the ceiling, steam wafting up around her face, and thought of nothing but the warmth around her. It worked, at least for a few moments, but that's all she wanted.

After quickly changing into a rogue set of clothing that had actually made it into her bag, she hurried to the small, neat laundry room to try and salvage what remained of her meager wardrobe. Ratchet still at this point hadn't moved, and there didn't seem to be anything amiss, so she carried on with her business. It didn't take long, not having much to actually clean, so after that set her sights to a much-needed night's (or what was left of it) sleep in an actual bed.

Allison wasn't actually sure how long she'd been sleeping, but to her it had felt like only a few minutes before she was rudely disturbed. She jolted awake in the dark, looking around the barely lit room from the light spilling in from behind the heavy curtains on the windows. In her half-asleep state, at first she mistook the shadows in the corners for figures, seeming to move even as she sat up in her bed, frozen with disruptive shock. Pulling the covers around herself, she tried forcing her brain to re-interpret what was around her before finally deciding that her overworked mind was forming illusions out of darkness. Relief flooded her, now content in knowing that someone wasn't in the room with her and about to kill her, so she flopped back down onto the pillows with an exhaustive sigh.

Within a moment of thinking this, another shadow caught her eye, this time of a figure passing by her window. Despite her attempts at disproving her own paranoia, this one was obviously very real, and she watched it as it walked up to her door. Her heart caught in her throat at the sound of a muffled voice, and despite her desire to be somewhere else, strained herself to listen to the conversation.

"-elling you that's what is is. Yeah. Ben thought so too but his meeting is at 3 O'Clock. No, just the usual dumb office gathering. Probably pizza, you know how cheap they are with these things..."

The one-sided conversation continued for a few moments, and Allison shook her head and buried her face under the pillow. A guy talking on a cell phone wasn't a very good assassin. Just highly annoying. Her fear was quickly replaced by irritation, and she ground her teeth until finally, the voices dies and she fell back asleep.


	22. The Morning Light

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
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The morning came far too quickly, but Allison finally awoke to the morning light spilling in through the cracks in the curtains next to her. The shafts of light painted brightly colored beams along the floor and her bedspread, and the subtle warmth was something she hadn't felt for a long time. At first, she was convinced that it was still quite early and there was time to be lazy, but at some point she rolled over only to see that the clock read well past noon. It was late, and with a jolt of panic, she picked up her phone which she'd carelessly thrown on the pillow next to her, only to see with great disappointment that there had been no messages. Had Ratchet actually let her sleep? Or was he just going to give her an earful about it as soon as she emerged? It worried her that perhaps she'd inadvertently forced Ratchet to sit in the parking lot all morning. What was even more bothersome was that there was still no word from Wheeljack in what had to have been almost 12 hours. Something had to be amiss, and now she intended to get a definite answer out of Ratchet other than "He's coming".

Jumping out of bed, she threw the curtains open, looking out into the parking lot. Ratchet was still there, on the other side near the highway, sitting exactly as he had yesterday and didn't outwardly appear anything but calm. However, upon further inspection she found that he was no longer alone. There was another car sitting directly in front of Ratchet, facing him as if it had been parked that way purposely to appear as if they were talking to each other. Confused, and still a little annoyed she resigned to walk out and see what was going on.

Opening the door, she stalked out across the parking lot towards where the two cars were sitting. As she got closer, she finally was able to recognize the car for what it was; It was a white Mustang, with green vertical stripes that ran down the length of the hood. It was quite large for a sports car, and definitely looked like there was some power underneath the hood with all its sleek, muscular angles, rounded to accentuate a modern design. Looking at it gave Allison pause, as faint recognition, followed by relief, passed through her mind as she walked closer. It was Wheeljack-but he was different.

"Allison you're awake!" Wheeljack's all-to-pleasant voice was far too bright for someone who had just woken up, and he was speaking cheerfully as if he hadn't been gone for the entire previous day. Blinking, Allison stared long and hard at the Mustang's windshield, trying to interpret what she was seeing, but was having a hard time convincing herself it was Wheeljack. He was... just so different. It was throwing her off.

"Yeah.. sorry, I overslept," she said, pausing. "What happened to you?" she asked, walking along the side of the vehicle to get a better look at how he'd changed. She bit her tongue, stifling what was really on her mind, but knew that it was not her place to complain. After all this time, all this silence and no contact, he was still so damn pleasant. It hurt.

"I'm a Mustang now!" He declared, as if this was a cause for riotous celebration. Despite the similar color scheme, with the green vertical stripes running down the hood, the fact he was a completely different vehicle had served its purpose of disguising the Autobot's true nature and sufficiently passed him off as another ordinary vehicle. This in itself only accentuated just how good the Cybertronians were at actually blending in. Allison brought her arms up to her face in a frustrated gesture, but failing to figure out what exactly to do with them she resolved to wave a hand at him.

"But why? I don't understand." she asked, sighing deeply.

"Do you like it? I think it's quite an improvement myself. The design is quite sexy," he said, rather coyly. Allison groaned, not knowing how else to comment on that remark, so she hastily changed the subject.

"Are you going to do this often?"

"It depends..." he said, his voice slightly more serious. He trailed off.

"On what?" Allison asked. "Is there something I should know about?"

"On whether or not I get caught..." Wheeljack shifted a little, causing Allison to step back. Still unsure, she looked around for anything suspicious, but they were still alone, and as far as she could tell, the rooms were quiet with the curtains still drawn. She turned back as a flurry of noise made her jump, and suddenly Wheeljack was transforming into his robot form. Allison ran up and pressed her palm against his foot urgently, terrified they were going to get caught. It was the middle of the day, in the parking lot of a motel on a highway. Any number of things could happen

"Someone will see you!" she hissed in a harsh whisper. Ratchet's body shuddered, and he growled; a deep throttling rumble from within his body to display that he was not in the least bit approving of this. Wheeljack ignored him and looked down at her appearing deeply amused, and.. something else which Allison did her very best to ignore. Was it relief? Joy? It was hard to place just by looking at his eyes alone, but it was certainly different. It made her think back with some discomfort on everything Ratchet had told her, and slightly blushing she looked back down at the stark white armor of Wheeljack's leg and patted it again absently. Who was she kidding, she had missed him after all.

"We're fine. The rooms are either empty or the occupants are still asleep." He looked at her intently, pointing at the building in a lazy, sweeping motion as if completely entranced with her disheveled early-morning state. Allison couldn't help but look up at Wheeljack again, and she blinked sleepily to get rid of the odd glare the sun was making off of his shoulder. This didn't escape Wheeljack's notice, and his head cocked to one side. "You're eyes are a bit puffy." he added.

"I didn't sleep very well. Some jerk on the same floor as me talked on his cell phone right outside my door." she explained, looking around. It was slightly distracting to be constantly worried about the possibility of being seen. Wheeljack didn't seem to be in any sort of a rush, which made it all the more weighted on her. Allison frowned, assuming that he knew, and likely could sense anything better than she could but that wasn't exactly calming. Knowing that you're senses were more terrible than present company was less than a comfort, and really only added to her overall discomfort.

"That is very irritating." Wheeljack looked at the quiet building, narrowing his eyes worriedly. She backed up a bit and looked at him, using that moment to see what had changed. Even in this form she could spot the changes, his body shape slightly different, a bit more angular and square, but still round that it didn't look boxy and cumbersome. His chest was actually similar in terms of coloring, but the placement was all wrong. Instead of the color curving around his chassis there was a single block of red in the middle, with two vertical green racing stripes that trailed down from it, presumably a continuation of the stripes that had been on his hood. Those were now on his legs, where there had used to be another pattern of red and green. His face however, was exactly the same, and she didn't know if she'd have been able to adjust if his face had also changed. As far as she could tell, this was all merely a side-effect of taking on the shape of an entirely different car. If he'd suddenly needed to change appearance, then it stood to reason that something likely had happened. That reminded her of something.

"You could have called," she said faintly, and with some hesitation in her words. She wasn't sure how he would react.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't risk communicating with you... But I can call now if you like!" he beamed. Allison looked up at him oddly.

"But Wheeljack... you're standing right here..." she said with a great sigh. Wheeljack shrugged, a mighty heave of his shoulders, causing the ever intimidating rocket to make a loud clacking noise as it moved with him. He was still looking at the building, and appeared to be studying the entire length of the structure. Allison didn't have any clue what he was doing, and whistling under her breath she muttered.

Wheeljack finished his study of the building and returned his gaze to her. She got the impression that he too, was frowning.

"I did miss you though..." he said, almost distantly, like he almost wasn't aware the words were coming from him. Allison had no idea what to say, and blinked up at him vapidly, her mind fumbling with a proper way to address such an intimate disclosure.

"Er-" she was sufficiently tongue-tied.

"-Shouldn't we discuss more important things?" Ratchet cut in, mercifully, almost too conveniently as if he'd done it on purpose to spare her the embarrassment of trying to figure out how to respond to Wheeljack. She almost didn't hear what Ratchet actually said, his words mashing together in a string of incoherent sounds as she stood there stunned, still trying to work up a decent response. It wasn't necessarily unwelcome, just unexpected. "Allison?"

"Um, what?" Allison finally realized that there had been silence for two whole minutes, and Ratchet had been talking to her. "I'm sorry... what were you trying to say?" she fumbled, feeling foolish.

"I ran into a problem" Wheeljack said. Allison looked at him, then at Ratchet, perplexed.

"Well that isn't very specific, we have many problems, and to name a few..."

"This is a new problem," Wheeljack restated at Allison's puzzlement, his previous intimate splurge completely forgotten. It only solidified the notion that if this bond was what Ratchet said it was, it made no difference how she reacted to it. It was there, and wasn't going to go away. She felt slightly fidgety. "I was forced to reformat and find an alternative disguise, for it seems your male friend..." Wheeljack said, with slight disdain. "...has decided to report your absence to local law enforcement. Poor fool seems to think I've kidnapped you," Wheeljack actually sounded offended, and Allison narrowed her eyes at him. Wheeljack noticed her glare. "I know, it's ridiculous isn't it? Kidnapped. Hah!"

"Be nice... he doesn't know..." she said faintly, but Wheeljack didn't appear to be listening.

"I was being pursued for quite some time by your police force, but I was able to easily elude them. I knew that in the interest of caution I needed to reformat, for they were looking for a car that fit my description," Wheeljack said. He raised a hand to his eyes and stared into the distance down the highway. Allison watched him, and wondered if he needed to do that. Surely he had something in his optic sensors that could compensate for light levels. Her mind strayed, wondering how he could possibly change his color scheme like he had. Changing physical body parts was one thing but changing his color? She guessed if a chameleon could do it, why not an alien robot? She was about to ask Wheeljack about it before he abruptly changed the subject.

"This morning air is very bracing," he said, still staring off into the distance, almost longingly. Allison had to wonder if he was actually seeing something, or just staring into empty space.

"You don't breath though, right?" Allison said, puzzled. She'd heard them seem to sigh, but she'd never noticed either of them actually breathing, so such a comment was odd, unless there was something more complex she didn't know about. Wheeljack took a deep intake of air then, seeming to inhale deeply as if breathing, perhaps just to prove a point. It sounded rougher than anything Allison was used to, but an unmistakable action.

"I have vents that act as air intakes and fibril nodes that can detect various compositions in the atmosphere. Oxygen is quite refreshing, and has been easily adapted to act as a combustive element to power our systems..."

"That's not exactly the same thing." Allison stopped him quickly, if only to avoid him breaking into a rant. Time was of the essence, and the longer they just flittered about in the open, the more likely they were to be seen.

"Why not? I can detect it. And it's fresh and... polleny. Like a horse on an Autumn wave..."

Oh god, she thought, He's trying to be poetic. Ratchet grunted.

"That's nice Wheeljack. Now, unfortunately for her, Allison cannot change the way she looks, so she still remains noticeable. Perhaps we should think about moving on?" Ratchet was right, and Allison still had to check out yet. She nodded at Wheeljack, who looked slightly disappointed, but otherwise agreeable, and turned to hurry back to her room to gather her things. It only took a few minutes to return her room key to the management office, and Wheeljack in the meantime had returned to his car form. Hurrying across the parking lot, Wheeljack opened his door for her, just as he always did, and within a few moments the small convoy turned and was back on the road.

"Unfortunately I failed my initial objective, and that was trying to find some place to lay low. I was too distracted," Wheeljack offered after a few moments. Allison found that she was too absorbed by being back with Wheeljack to really notice. Wheeljack's interior felt the same, and actually didn't look all that different, except for it now being a very dark grey instead of the deep red it had been before. It took a few minutes to readjust, but soon it felt as if nothing had changed. Sitting in Wheeljack's driver seat, Allison strapped herself in as they rolled out, looking out the window to watch the stretches of land as they passed by.

"That's alright, I forgive you."

There was a pleasant rumble from within at Wheeljack's contentment, before he fell into stride at a steady pace behind Ratchet. The did not mention his previous indiscretions and sudden departure, so Allison did not press him. He would tell her when he was ready.

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**The choice of a Mustang was intentional, but is not a nod at the 2007 movie Barricade. In the Alternator's line, Wheeljack is actually a white mustang with blue stripes, and I see them driving around enough to get a feel for what they look like.  
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	23. Sound of Silence

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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From the time they left it had only taken a few more hours to end up outside of the storage facility that matched the building advertised on Allison's postcard. It wasn't much to look at, mainly a series of single-story buildings that stretched out along vertical roadways, all neatly spaced together and aligned. The entire lot was walled in, a single gate the only entrance way, and for a moment, Allison thought they were going to be reduced to breaking in to yet another off-limits area before she saw the simple latch that kept the gate closed. Wondering how that would hope to actually deter anyone from entering, she tapped lightly on Wheeljack's steering wheel, stopping him.

"I'm getting out," she said, and stepping out walked up to the rusted brass gate and pulled at the latch. It was stiff, so she fumbled with it for a few minutes trying to force it open, before it finally slid up from its locked position. The rusted over metal was grating, and crumbled just slightly underneath her fingers as she pulled the heavy gate open, wondering just how long it had been since someone had last been there.

Allison walked in and looked around. The rows of garage-like doors were still and silent, and there didn't seem to be a soul about. Wheeljack must have noticed this too, and felt it as good a time as any to transform, startling Allison yet again. She didn't know if he was just that good at being able to tell when there were prying eyes about, or he was just getting careless. Either way, it probably didn't matter. By the look of things, it didn't appear as if they would be expecting someone anytime soon. It further surprised her when Ratchet did the same, transforming to a stand and leaning back to stretch before they walked in through the opening.

It was almost like a maze, and took some time to find the right order of markers above the storage doors that they could follow to find the one that matched the number etched on the key. There were many breaks in what had seemed like an endless row of vertical buildings, creating perpendicular roadways that made the complex almost seem like a checkerboard. The buildings were high, and came up to about Wheeljack's and Ratchet's upper chest, and took many confusing turns to find the right door.

Allison sighed as she looked over it, noting that it was unremarkable and mindlessly identical to every other door they'd passed. She looked down at the lock, which kept the door latched to a small loop of metal wedged firmly in the ground. It was covered in rust, just like the door itself, but gave easily when she pulled to free the lock. Tossing it to the side, Allison dusted her hands off on her jeans and grabbed at the handle, cursing as the door refused to move. She readjusted her center of gravity, trying to force the door up with her legs, grunting with the effort it was taking just for one, seemingly feeble door.

After a few agonizing moments of Allison stumbling with no headway, Wheeljack shooed her to the side with his hand making her stumble, then in one fell swoop punched his fist into the door with a ear-splitting crunch. He pulled and wrenched the entire sheet of brittle metal free from its hinges, with no more effort than pulling a tiny weed out of loose dirt. Allison jumped back as Wheeljack threw it off to the side indifferently with a noisy, shrieking clatter as it settled onto the concrete. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he returned her stare merrily.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked sarcastically. Wheeljack looked pleased with himself. Ratchet scoffed.

"You appeared to be having trouble..." he countered, eyes overloaded with pride at his own accomplishment. His overwhelming pleasure out of ripping open a garage-like door for her only made her smile, and laughing, she waved her hand in the air playfully.

"I know who to call when I forgot my keys then..." she said, as she turned to take in what had been behind the door.

It was a disaster, and even with the little bit of light that filtered in she could tell that it had not been well-taken care of. Piled along each of the walls, were seemingly endless rows of boxes, crammed full of papers and sagging underneath their own weight and age. The main floor space itself had even more cramped, warped boxes that looked as if they were about to burst at any moment, and there were various sheets of paper scattered along the floor. Groaning, Allison wondered with bitter detachment if her boss had expected her to actually go through all these boxes. Surely there must be something specific she was actually looking for. She glanced at Wheeljack nervously, who offered nothing more than an encouraging nod of reassurance.

With a sigh, she stepped into the darkly lit garage, and immediately sneezed, causing Wheeljack to emit an odd, playfully questioning brrrr in response. Rubbing her nose and sniffling, she turned and waved her hand at him, motioning to the entire room hoping he would understand she was directing his attention to the mountains of dust that covered the boxes. It also smelled terrible, like something had died in the vicinity, presumably a rat, or something bigger. Hoping that she wouldn't run into any of these unfortunate stowaways, she scanned the space, trying to find something that would draw her attention.

Allison started to pick her way amongst the boxes, looking for labels, dismissing some of them as useless and only marking the contents as being charts or financial records. In between some of the boxes there were stacks of what appeared to be very old science books, but nothing caught her interest. On the few bits of space on the wall that were actually free, coils of dust-covered wire and tubing hung from dull, rusted hooks. Nothing seemed entirely relevant, and it was surprisingly devoid of personal effects, until she saw the one lonely box tucked away in one of the furthest corners. Looking at it, she had to double take it, stunned when she realized what the box actually had scrawled in messy handwriting along its side. It had her name on it.

Immediately drawn to it, Allison shoved her fingers underneath the torn flap and tried to pull it free from the corner it was wedged into. She jumped back, squeaking with fright as a very large spider scuttled up the wall from behind the box. She watched it crawl up into the corner and disappear through the grating of what look like a vent, likely more terrified of her than she was of it. She didn't dare venture closer to the box until she was sure the spider wasn't going to turn around and come back out with the intention of jumping onto her face. Cautiously, she started pulling the flaps of the box open, only to find another large spider, this one impossible fuzzy and wedged in between two piles of old, yellowed papers. She screamed, a short undignified yelp as she jumped up, slapping at her entire body as if to fend off the army of arachnids that was certainly crawling all over her.

"AUUGH!"

"What is it!" Wheeljack seemed alarmed, and she caught sight of him only long enough to see that he was peering into the opening, and looked as if he was trying to force his way in and see what exactly she was having such a hard time with. He was obviously too big, but was ducking and subtly trying to maneuver his body in a vain attempt to come to her rescue but steadily appearing more and more frustrated as the failure continued. Eventually Allison was able to calm herself long enough to wave him off, her timing being perfect as Wheeljack looked as if he was preparing to tear the entire structure apart. She knew that there had already been enough wanton destruction for the day, and not exactly trusting that Wheeljack would back down, it was time for drastic action. Allison had no desire to linger in what was obviously a spider-infested room anyway.

"I'm kicking this box out to you!" she called out, and shuddering, she used her boot to push the box into a position where she could just kick it to the outside. Keeping careful watch on the spider, who seemed perfectly content to stay nestled amongst the papers that were likely of great importance to them, she started to forcefully kick it out towards the opening in a series of quick shoves. By the time she'd managed to force it outside, she was quite certain her hair was full of squirming spiders, and she pranced about the roadway brushing herself off frantically.

"Are your motor sensors on the fritz?" Ratchet called after her, sounding just slightly hysterical and annoyed. Allison ignored him, and didn't stop until she was satisfied that she was safe. Pointing at the box, she looked at Wheeljack expectantly.

"Guess what you get to do?" she smirked, pointing at the box. Wheeljack was looking between her and the box questioningly. He blinked.

"What?"

"Look!" she jerked her arm roughly at the box. "I'm not sticking my hand in there!"

Wheeljack peered into the box, and made a soft rumbling noise, curious.

"You mean this tiny organic creature?" he asked, and to her horror he poked one large finger into the box, and it emerged with the spider clinging to his finger tip. He turned his finger in her direction, as if to give her a better view of it at a closer angle, and Allison responded by screaming at him hoarsely and leaping back.

"Get that away from me!"

"It isn't dangerous-" Wheeljack offered but didn't get a chance to partake his wisdom.

"I DON'T CARE!" she cried, "Get rid of it!" As soon as she was finished speaking , she sneezed again, feeling the remnants of dust tingle her nose. Wheeljack was looking at Ratchet, almost as if for direction, the spider still dangling precariously from his finger. Finally he deposited it on the top of the building, thankfully out of sight.

"Primus Allison... what in the name of Cybertron was that all about?" Wheeljack asked, just as Ratchet had moved in closer, leaning down to get a better look at the contents of the box.

"I hate spiders. I really, really hate spiders." Allison glanced back into the room and sighed. "But I'm the only one that can fit in there, so I guess I have no choice."

"You're going back inside?" Wheeljack asked.

"Against my better judgement and good reasoning, yes. But there might be more stuff back there worth looking at. Maybe I'll find a box with your name on it." She wiped her sides with her hands and took a deep breath. "Here we go." She wrinkled her nose with disgust and plunged into the darkness of the room. Behind her, Ratchet looked at Wheeljack and shook his head.

"You picked her," he gruffed.

Allison was at the far back of the room, trying to climb over a dusty bicycle without getting the thick layer of dust all over her clothes. She didn't succeed, and the bike toppled over as she tripped over it. She managed to prevent herself from falling with it by resting her hand on a pile of boxes, but scurried away from the bike lest any spiders nesting beneath the broken seat come hunting for her. The storage room receded back a fair ways, and she found herself almost lost amidst a maze of piled up newspapers. She briefly gazed over the dates; 1985, 1955, some even older. She couldn't make much from the headlines as the papers were piled in a haphazard fashion, but they weren't what she was looking for so she quickly moved on. There was the sound of heavy footsteps from outside, and a dark shadow pass over the room, temporarily blocking the contents of the room from sight and plunging her into darkness. Wondering if Wheeljack was watching her again, she didn't bother turning.

"Hey, Wheeljack? You're blocking the light." When there was no immediate response from him, Allison turned around to face the entrance. "Could you...move?"

The glowing red eyes that stared back from the entrance were neither Ratchet's nor Wheeljack's, and clearly not friendly.

"Uh...guys? Help?"

Her voice was no more than a whisper as she backed away further into the room, threat of spiders completely obliterated from her mind. The eyes, or eye of this strange robot followed her with a searing red glow; an intense gaze that she could feel like a tangible weight against her. Like Wheeljack, there was no mouth, only a wide band of metal like a mask, this one angular and sharp. While Wheeljack's was to hide his face to appear more benign, this more sinister mask was clearly meant to intimidate. It gave this Decepticon a cold, calculating expression filled with malevolence. For a moment Allison froze, unsure of how to react or if moving would only invite an attack; She was trapped.

There was movement from the beast as she watched it's arm shift forward, and a giant snake-like appendage weaved its way into the room. Allison's skin crawled as the tendril navigated its way through the boxes and trash like a reptile, sliding its way towards her with horrific grace. She made a failed attempt to back away, stumbling over a rogue box and her boot caught the corner, throwing her back into a pile of papers. They scattered around her with heavy thumps of aged, cracking paper as they spilled across the floor. The tendril moved closer, expertly flicking the parched obstructions aside as it lessened the distance between it and her frantically back-peddling legs. She couldn't scream; only whimper as she tried to bury herself in the fresh pile of paper relics as it slid ever closer, brushing against her leg.

There was a sudden rush of air and noise as the sensation of coiling metal on her body was yanked backward in one swift movement. Turning to look, Allison saw the tentacle flicking back madly, knocking over the piles of belongings in its wake as it flailed. There was a pair of massive hands around the Decepticon's head as its entire hulking frame was pulled from the doorway and out of her vision. The sounds of metal crashing outside made her momentarily freeze, as the sounds of battle seceded the silence, marking the arrival of the Autobots. She simply lay there, conflicted and confused as to what her next course of action should be and if she should run or stay put. She was terrified of both options.

Caution quickly fled her mind when there was a monumental shudder of the earth around her as something shattered-The building around her was coming down as something massive broke through the adjoining structure, throwing all the boxes and wall decor to the floor in an ear-splitting clatter of destruction. As the walls crumbled at the hands of physical combat, she only saw the barest glimpses of the tangled robotic bodies as they struggled: white and a searing blue, but she didn't dare spare them a second glance as she ran out of the building towards the first familiar thing she saw: Ratchet.

Ratchet quickly motioned for her to get behind his leg, his posture tense and stooped like he was waiting for an opening to jump into the fray. Allison only had a second to take in the mess before her: an explosion of flying rubble and tangled supports, a chaotic rush of noise as a battle she could not see continued from within. It all happened quickly, and Allison had barely time to cover her ears to block out the screeching sound of metal before the massive blue Decepticon rolled out of the carnage in a low, aggressive crouch. It took one last glance at Ratchet before transforming in a rush of ferocious gears. For one panicked second, Allison thought he would run them over, and she pressed her body against Ratchet's leg, the Decepticon vehicle's side mirror glancing inches from her face as it shot past her, disappearing around the corner the next instant. Suddenly, it was quiet.

Allison stared in the direction of the Decepticon's retreat, expecting a round 2 or something more to happen, but jerked as the crunching sounds of crumbling concrete made her turn. She hadn't noticed that Ratchet had moved away from her, and he was now reaching into the remains of the building, forcefully yanking out by the arm what appeared to be a very stunned Wheeljack.

"Did you see that?" Wheeljack was waving his arms madly, his eyes wide.

"No I missed it," Ratchet growled, "Slagging idiot-" he snarled, retracting the magnetic blades on his arms as he let go of Wheeljack's shoulder. Wheeljack was covered in a generous coat of dust and debris, and it fell off him in little clouds as he moved. To her relief, after briefly scanning Wheeljack over with her eyes, Allison noted that he didn't appear to be hurt, just merely frazzled. He was pawing at all the dust that clung to him curiously, as if his very recent encounter with head-butting a Decepticon into a building had been nothing more than a lakeside excursion; inconsequential. However, the utter rage in Ratchet's eyes suggested otherwise, and Allison feared she was about to witness the full nuclear fury of Ratchet's wrath. He'd never looked so dangerous.

Allison remained where she was near the opposite building, the sudden calm in the air almost suffocating, but she didn't dare move. Watching them cautiously, she was struggling to find words to cut the tense silence that had encroached the little group, but her voice was out of her reach. The Decepticon had simply vanished as quickly as it had appeared. If that wasn't bone-chilling enough, the vacant, emotionless stare as it marked her definitely had not hid the underlying, scrutinizing intelligence beneath.

The silent, visual stand-off between the two robots continued for a few more tense moments. Out of nowhere, Ratchet rounded on Allison. She looked up at him quickly, unsure of how to arrange her face as the medic's labored expression pierced her.

"You just met Soundwave," Ratchet said stonily. "On a good day."

"How is this a good day?" Allison ventured, feeling her voice waver. She put her hand over her heart, as if the presence of it there would calm her spooked senses back under control.

"We survived." Coming from any other person it would have been astonishingly inappropriate, and in fact, Allison was having a hard time believing that she'd actually heard Ratchet correctly.

"Ratchet," Wheeljack cut in, as if to stop the medic from speaking any further. He purposely moved forward to crouch in front of Allison with concern. "You OK?"

Allison took a deep breath. "Yeah, I think so." Her heart was starting to beat slower, and she could feel herself calming down. But she could still feel the light-headed lingering of adrenaline in her system that was making her feel woozy. Even if she hadn't been completely focused enough to get a completely clear look at the Decepticon, she could still picture its face as it watched her, directing that horrific entity of an appendage towards her like a living coil. The image stayed with her, burned into the forefront of her mental vision like the remnants of a bad dream.

Slowly, and carefully Allison moved away from the wall, extending her own hand towards Wheeljack who was waiting as patiently as a statue for her to move. He looked at her intently, and made a soft whistling noise when their fingertips touched. It was then that she realized she was still shaking, but Wheeljack curled his fingers around hers just slightly as if to steady them. Allison wasn't entirely sure why he was holding her hand, but at the moment was still too much in shock to care. Wheeljack turned just slightly, and regarded Ratchet briskly.

"We're compromised. It's time to go." Wheeljack said, his eyes unreadable. Ratchet looked at him tersely, but there was exhaustion in his eyes when he spoke.

"She could have easily been taken, and you know what Soundwave can do-"

"-I know!" Wheeljack suddenly snapped, a low, dangerous growl reverberating through his chest like the throttling of an engine. Allison winced, drawing back as she drew Wheeljack's attention once again, not wanting to be collateral damage to his hostility towards Ratchet. But Wheeljack's eyes softened, his face taking on a more personal tone intending to comfort. "Did he hurt you?" he finally asked, looking at her carefully with an air of scrutinization more akin to a look she'd expect from Ratchet. He was still touching her hand, and Allison felt too tired to bother moving it away. Instead she looked at the ground, feeling very aware of herself again.

"No…" she said, taking stock of her own physical condition and finding satisfaction in the fact that she was all in one piece. "Had a building come down around me, but other than that I'm doing remarkably well."

Wheeljack leaned back a bit, rubbing at his face absently.

"Sorry about that..." he said with a shred of guilt in his voice. "I guess I..."

"Got distracted?" Ratchet huffed, exasperated. "Look, let's get what we came for and get out of here before Soundwave decides to come back with his Minicons in tow."

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," Allison pulled her hand away from Wheeljack and rubbed at her arms absently. She felt somewhat relieved at her admissions, finally having the courage to express her uncertainty. Allison was more aware of the words leaving her rather than actually hearing them, her mind still in somewhat of a daze. She felt Wheeljack shift nervously.

"I understand," he said solemnly. "I would have never wished to bring you into this Allison if there was any other way, but I fear that at this point there is no turning back…" Allison looked up at him fearfully, but it was hard to look at Wheeljack's completely benign, compassionate expression and feel any anger towards him. She swallowed hard, noticing that Ratchet was surveying the area, scanning the tops of the buildings dutifully. If Allison didn't know better, she suspected he was purposely ignoring them. "Perhaps, we should discuss this later Allison…" Wheeljack finally said, and there was a strange glimmer in his eyes, like he was saying more than what was verbally coming out of his mouth.

In just over on month she'd been startled to find that the car following her had actually been an alien robot. That was just for starters. She'd been knocked around by a pseudo earthquake, chased by and fired upon by a jet whose hobby appeared to be tearing airplane engines and throwing them on top of unsuspecting victims, and not to forget, one who also enjoyed blowing up buildings. Then who could forget her latest encounter? Allison was fairly certain she couldn't take much more of this, but was too tangled up inside herself to find the true resolve to turn her back and run.

And then there was Wheeljack. The seemingly innocent sincerity on his face was almost too much to bear, regardless of how much she felt currently. While she could likely never understand the emotional confusion that was gnawing away at Wheeljack's otherwise overwhelmingly brilliant mind, she still knew that she'd grown fairly attached to his company. His soothing, if not sometimes outlandish presence was welcoming, and even astounded her in his otherwise oblivious nature despite how intelligent he really was. It wasn't everyday that someone could say they've befriended a robotic engineer from space, much less have one go so far as to protect them without fear for their own safety. It was hard to comprehend what sort of impact it would have on him if she did decided to disappear. She still didn't know what this bond truly was, and what it would actually do to him if something happened to her, lethal or otherwise. She didn't think she could live with the knowledge that she'd perhaps sentenced him to a lonely, broken life if Ratchet had really meant what he said about the devastation these bonds could cause.

Leaving him and condemning him to something like that just wasn't an option in her mind. It couldn't be his fault, none of this really was, so he didn't deserve something so wretched. Allison was truly torn, the more rational corners of her brain telling her that her life truly had forever been changed the moment she saw Wheeljack standing at her window. But she did care for him, it was hard not to, and she knew that anyone in her position would be crazy to not feel that same necessary attachment to such an impressive individual.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," Wheeljack said after a few moments, the mirthful sparkle returning in his eyes. "Yes, you've just met Soundwave… and have lived to tell about it!"

"Forgive me if I forgot my confetti…" Allison raised an eyebrow at Wheeljack who was tilting his head at her. Thankfully, it allowed her a moment to laugh, a short giggle, and Wheeljack seemed to swell with suppressed joy. It was nice to be able to laugh after something so terrible, and it only confirmed her overwhelming appreciation for him. However, Ratchet would not be outdone.

"Ahem," Ratchet coughed. "We can either sit here and be compromised all day, or we can take what we came for and leave. What's it going to be?"

"Point taken, Ratchet." Wheejack turned his attention back to Allison. "Before we were distracted and Soundwave arrived, we had a brief moment to look in that box you found," Wheeljack walked over to the near-forgotten box, now partially hidden beneath a chunk of rubble. Allison followed Wheeljack to where the box sat silently, pathetic and alone in the midst of the ruined road.

"Was there anything interesting in there?" Allison touched Wheeljack's leg in inquiry as he stopped, before bending down to knock the debris away.

"That is a good question, because there were in fact many things of interest in there!" Wheeljack was positively glowing. Allison turned to the box and was not surprised to find it very bland and rather un-intriguing. She kept this to herself if only to allow Wheeljack the continued pleasure. "Perhaps we should go look together?"

To her great shock Wheeljack scooped her up off the ground and placed her delicately atop his shoulder. Startled, she clung to the edge of his faceplate, her body pressed up lightly against his cheek for support as he started walking. Having only been up there once before, it took a few panicked minutes to adjust and actually feel like she wasn't going to fall off. Ratchet was grumbling something incoherent behind them. As if in response, Wheeljack turned his head, only to have one of the wide panels knock Allison forward one very terrifying centimeter as she heaved forward

"Wheeljack! When you move your head your giant ears are hitting me!" she trilled, fearful that he was going to inadvertently knock her off his shoulder.

"These aren't auditory sensors by any means Allison," he commented with amusement, tapping the panel nearest her with one black finger. Allison felt somewhat embarrassed, figuring she probably should have known that, but to her credit they were conveniently placed where ears should have been. "What you're currently pressed against however, is my audio lobe," Allison leaned away, and upon a quick inspection she found a series of darker panels along the side of his face that slid down to his jaw line, just before where his face plating began. Nothing about them looked like ears in particular, in fact, the way they trailed down his face it almost gave the impression of sideburns.

"Those, my dear, vent heat from my processor. I merely reprogrammed them to indicate when I spoke... wanted to see if I could do it... They became quite intertwined with my emotional centers, which was merely an adaptive occurrence... quite fascinating..." Wheeljack continued. "But their main purpose is to channel that heat into energy for my gyro-inhibitor. Oh sure they can do a few other things, but that in itself is the most important. Perhaps I can show you someday?" he inquired.

"Gyro-" she began to question, trying to find a safe place on his shoulder that wouldn't make her fall to her doom. Instantly she knew the second she'd opened her mouth in the attempt of asking a question, Wheeljack was going to be only too happy to explain everything. Thankfully, he kept it short, because the way Ratchet was stomping around, it seemed as if he'd have a few words of his own if Wheeljack appeared to be enthusiastic about anything other than catering to Ratchet's foul mood.

"Gyro-inhibitor," he corrected. "Ceases any mechanical or electrical movement, meaning it will halt any rampaging mech in its tracks and stun them for an indefinite amount of time: something the Decepticons do not like it. Starscream has been trying to get his hands on it forever, but only ends up having it used on him..." Wheeljack said, amusement in his voice suggesting his superior confidence. "I'd engineered it in hopes of being able to better control my machines when they go rather... rogue," he said delicately. "But it turned out to be quite useful when the war began..."

"That's assuming you don't have your head in the clouds," Ratchet let out a cough, which caught Allison's attention. She looked up to see him to see that his expression had surprisingly softened. Allison however, was not fooled, and knew that Ratchet was trying to hide the fact that he was giving her an incognito check-up.

"What's that?" Allison asked, shrugging Ratchet off as she pointed into the box at what looked like a very heavy bound leather journal. It was stuffed with various bits of scrap paper sticking out at odd ends, and was wrapped in a thick frayed rope. It certainly looked the part of the stereotypical, all-important notebook of boundless secrets. Wheeljack pulled it out and handed it her so she could pick through it. The rest of the contents of the box from what she could see from her vantage point, while being in a box with her name on it, actually hadn't seemed to be of any relevance to her at all.

"Is there anything important in that?" Wheeljack asked after a few moments of her silence. She continued to leaf through it, scanning what looked like various charts and diagrams.

"So far I don't really know." she started, her voice a murmur as she shuffled through it. Something heavy that had been stuffed in between the pages fell out onto her lap, startling her. "Oh... an MP3 player." She picked it up and pressed the play button. It turned on for a second, and she could see some random letters before the screen went blank again. "The battery is dead, but there might be something on it. It's a long shot, but hey, who knows?" She said, stuffing it in her pocket after dusting it off.

"Yes... who knows?" Wheeljack offered brightly. Allison continued to stare at the book, chewing her lip nervously. There was something about it that was bothering her, almost like it was speaking to her conscience. Something about this ragged book seemed important.

"This..." she started. "I think we should take this... I can look through this. There has to be something here..." There was nothing else in the box that seemed important, and given the relative level of success so far, by the laws of probability the book had to be what her boss had wanted her to find. Holding it close, Allison turned it over in her hands. The dates scrawled on the back, ranging from as far past as three years earlier, up until almost two weeks before Arkeville had disappeared just had to mean something. Allison pointed at the date on the end of the range. "This was just before he went missing. He was probably writing about what he was up to, what he went to... um... Optimus Prime about."

"Well then, we can take this back with us," Wheeljack said, surprisingly, for Allison assumed they were going to have to lump through it all here rather then risk a second trip. It must not have been as much as a hassle for them as it appeared to her.

"Are you sure we just take it? I mean, what if we have to come back?"

"Then we have to come back," Wheeljack said, more serious then she'd heard him in a long time. "I don't think Soundwave has left the area just yet, so it would be unwise to stay." Wheeljack plucked her off his shoulder with gentle fingers and deposited her back on the ground. Her head lingered in the clouds for a moment before she regained her senses, wavering. She went to retrieve her bag which was still lying near the storage house door and was about to shove the book inside it, but Wheeljack stopped her by taking it from her hands.

"I'll hold on to this," he said slyly, looking at the book as if it was threatening to explode any minute before depositing it into a hidden compartment on his shoulder. "I think it's best for you to not become more of a target than you already are..." he trailed off. "Besides, some ignorance for the moment while Soundwave is lingering might be the better course of action, seeing as I'm clearly more equipped to deal with him." Wheeljack glanced at Ratchet briefly, a quick rise of his brow that lasted nearly a second but was apparent enough to tell Allison that they'd confirmed some type of common knowledge between them. They were not going to share it with her.

Wheeljack stood swiftly and transformed with a noisy shift of gears. Ratchet followed suit and slid past them as he drove back towards the entrance, leaving Wheeljack and Allison alone. Allison watched Ratchet disappear around the corner for a moment, before a delicate sound of shifting metal caught her attention as Wheeljack seemed to twitch. Her thoughts lingering on Ratchet, she turned to Wheeljack.

"I'm glad you're okay," Allison said, making her words encompass more than just the previous altercation between him and Soundwave. She was glad he was back, and seemingly in good spirits after his disappearance following Starscream's exit. Even though she didn't think words could really express her relief, she felt it important to say it.

"Me too..." Wheeljack said quietly, but there was a note of sarcasm in his voice as if his mind was on other things. His door popped opened expectantly. "I want to talk to you."

* * *

**02/27/2011 - MAJOR Change to this chapter. This was the point where Allison got a little nuts. She no longer randomly walks away and blunders into danger, only to go crazy on Ratchet and Wheeljack. I wanted to still include Soundwave, but I had to find a way to make it less like Allison was blindly walking into danger for no reason. This sort of makes it come to her, which maybe reads better. Also - No screaming.**


	24. Where We Stand

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Note: Kind of important this time. This chapter is 100% shameless fluff, but I want to reiterate that I'm not interested, nor intending to hint at any romantic or slashy relationships here. The bond I've intended to build is a strong companionship that I know regardless of what I say here, people are going to mistake it for OC slash, but it's not. I've put in a lot of effort to try and make it not come off that way, but there's only so much I can do. But, I needed to establish where the characters stand with each other emotionally, and this was the angle I wanted to explore it in. **

* * *

Here it comes...

Without question Allison threw her bag into Wheeljack's interior, then dropped herself heavily onto the seat with exhaustion. His wheels spun as he shut the door, picking up speed back out onto main road. Ratchet was slid into place behind him, but didn't appear to be as enthused about the drive as Wheeljack was. Allison looked out the back window, sensing Ratchet's sudden disturbance and wondered if she should say something to try and alleviate whatever was bothering him, but wasn't sure if it would do any good. Allison opted to say nothing at all, but instead leaned against Wheeljack's window and watched as the road slipped by. Wheeljack still hadn't spoken, so whatever he'd wanted to say to her was still a mystery, but she had a feeling that she knew why he wanted to talk.

Allison sighed, mostly in response to her own barren thoughts, but jerked as Wheeljack suddenly spoke. While he spoke out loud, it was clear he wasn't directing the conversation at her.

"Ratchet, I need a clear path..." he said, his voice piping in through the speakers of the radio system. Allison looked at Wheeljack's dashboard as if it would impart some type of explanation, but almost immediately after Wheeljack's voice died, the sudden, shocking wail of sirens erupted from behind him. Allison jerked, and threw her body around to look out the back window. Ratchet's emergency lights were spinning, and he swerved aggressively to the left and shot past Wheeljack in the adjacent lane. The neighboring cars on the highway ahead swerved to let the ambulance pass and get out of the way, a pattern of brake lights decorating the pack of vehicles that were breaking to avoid collision. Wheeljack suddenly surged forward and through the breaks in the cars on the highway, weaving in and out of the traffic with ease. Allison, unsure if she should be fearing for her life at that moment fumbled at the seatbelt and strapped herself in, clinging to the seat like a lifeline.

"Are you insane?" She hollered at him, the urge to hit him repressed by her need to feel something solid beneath her hands. The distorted blare of horns receded into the distance as the other cars on the road reacted to the audacious white car. Wheeljack was tailing Ratchet expertly, gliding between the other startled drivers on the road with practiced grace. Ratchet as she already knew, was quite good at avoiding obstacles in his way, but as Wheeljack had never exactly demonstrated driving prowess before she hadn't expected it. If anything, Wheeljack was better.

"I'll be with you shortly," Wheeljack said, again clearly not to her as the g-force of his sudden pull to the right pressed Allison against the door, leaving Ratchet behind. He shot through the remnants of the automotive pack that was trying to exit the highway via the off ramp, and coasted to a much more reasonable speed before taking another hard left down a derelict industrial road. Allison had no idea where they were, and frankly didn't care.

"What's wrong with you?" she breathed, her heart thudding hard in her chest as she tried hard to make sense of what had just happened. She didn't know if she should be angry or not, not really knowing the purpose of Wheeljack's little stunt and if there was actual reason for her to be afraid. Obviously her life had never been in real danger unless they were being chased, but a little warning would have seemed appropriate.

"My bad, I should have prepared you..." Wheeljack actually sounded amused, which caused Allison to scoff in disbelief.

"You think?"

"We weren't in any danger, I just felt the need to get the Energon flowing" Wheeljack said, and he slid to a stop in a large, open area that looked abnormally deserted. Looking around, it was certainly not a tasteful part of whatever small town Wheeljack had decided to thunder into like a tornado, but it was fully devoid of human life. That had likely been Wheeljack's motivation for stopping there in the first place. There was a large concrete wall outside his right window, and it was immediately revealed to be covered in graffiti. Wonderful, she thought. Running her hands through her hair to give them something to do, Allison turned her eyes back to the dashboard instinctively waiting for him to speak.

"Get out, I need to transform," Wheeljack said, much to Allison's great shock that he would transform in such a place. She looked at the door as the lock popped to the unlocked position, and slowly the door opened for her. Grabbing her bag, Allison jumped out. They were underneath the freeway from the looks of it, the wall that had been next to him now clearly a pillar holding up the concrete roads above. In fact the open space wasn't as open as her first glance had revealed, and was actually peppered with a multitude of pillars that were closely spaced together in neat rows. All over the packed dirt and cracked concrete stretches, trash and remnants of vagrants littered the ground, accumulating in dirty piles along the bases of the columns. Every now and then the disastrous scene was broken up by a beat up, or sometimes completely stripped car, which made standing next to Wheeljack's alternate form all the more ironic because he stood out like a sore thumb. It was derelict, but an environment that was not normally an ideal place for a lone female to be in was no threat with Wheeljack present.

Wheeljack transformed quickly which drew her attention, and hastily got down on one knee to be closer to her level. Allison was startled by the urgency of his movements, and her breath stilled as the massive Autobot drew close enough that she could feel the heat from his vents. The freeway was high enough above that he wasn't in danger of bashing his head, but he did it to lessen the size gap between them, which Allison had always wondered if he thought that made things more personal. Wheeljack ended up weighing her carefully with his eyes for a long time.

"That was rather unfortunate what happened back there... not to mention dangerous," Wheeljack finally spoke, panels blinking a soft blue with each word. Allison blinked away the glare.

"I'm sorry, I guess-"

Wheeljack chuckled a little, making Allison start. His eyes, even while lacking human pupils, had a very distinct air of sorrow glowing from within. It wasn't hard to see even with the rest of his face hidden, but he was trying to mask it with laughter.

"No, that wasn't your fault, but I must admit that we delayed far longer than I was comfortable with before intervening. Ratchet insisted that Soundwave be caught off-guard... but we could have easily been too late," Wheeljack said, a sudden softness in his otherwise boisterously loud voice. Allison blinked, surprised that he was telling her this, but partially glad that she now knew why Soundwave had even managed to sneak up on her in the first place: They'd let him in order to get the drop on him. A more reasonable part of her felt annoyed that she'd essentially been used as bait, but she could not voice any complaint towards the sincere blue eyes that were watching her carefully, perhaps for a reaction.

"It's okay Wheeljack, I'm alive aren't I?" Allison replied, offering a smile after Wheeljack didn't speak.

"I was supposed to protect you, and I didn't do a very good job today, now did I?" he said quickly, the hand that was balanced over his knee balled into a light fist. "It was reckless to not consider the worst case scenario, but that has always been one of my problems I'm afraid..." Wheeljack looked surprisingly frustrated with himself. "That is something that cannot happen now and I must work to change habits that have been rooted into my behaviour for... a very long time, especially with your life as my responsibility now." Wheeljack looked sad, and if he had tear-ducts, Allison likened that he would probably be crying. Allison sniffed.

"Don't do that..." She frowned. "Besides, you came in like a giant white knight and saved me, and that's all that matters, right?" She toed a pebble on the ground, pushing it around with her boot before accidentally flicking it towards Wheeljack. He picked it off the ground and regarded it silently, before letting it slide from his palm and back into the dirt. He remained wordless for a few minutes, and Allison wondered if he was trying to figure out how to tell her everything she already knew thanks to Ratchet... Of course, he didn't know that, but he seemed to be very deep in thought, the way he was tugging distractedly against his face mask. He did that a lot.

After a while, once it got to the point that Allison thought she couldn't take the awkwardness anymore, Wheeljack sighed heavily. A great burst of hot air hit Allison, kicking up her hair, and it was actually quite pleasant in the chilled air.

"Allison I was not entirely honest with you about Soundwave, and there's something you need to know. I'm keeping the book for safe keeping because I'm merely trying to protect you..." he trailed off, lingering on the last words in hesitation. "Soundwave is particularly malicious, and I don't want to condemn you to what will surely happen if you have what he needs, in this case if you know what that book might carry..." he said quietly, shifting uneasily. He was tapping his fingers together absently, still frowning.

"I sort of figured that he was dangerous, judging by the metal squid arm coming at me," Allison said, wrapping her arms around her body for comfort. "Although admittedly that was pretty horrifying," she said, walking in a wide, random circle if only to give herself something to do to work out the anxiety. Wheeljack was following her movements with his eyes, before looking up between the overpasses and into the sky beyond as if to stall. He clearly looked uncomfortable.

"Yes but this is different," he started, looking back down at her squarely. His eyes were glowing intensely. "Soundwave is a telepath. That is likely why he has been sent and not anyone else. I feel as if Starscream is acting on his own accord now and that would not be outside his character... but Soundwave may be different, and furthermore, if he has decided to follow Starscream and go rogue then we are in more trouble than first feared. Soundwave has always outwardly appeared loyal, but he is also motivated by his own ambition, and Starscream is very good at manipulation..." Wheeljack sighed heavily again. Allison was having a hard time following him, and had always assumed that things were very, very bad... but Wheeljack was making things sound astronomically worse. And now she knew Soundwave was even more dangerous than he already appeared. That was just priceless.

"Prime may already be on his way with help. We can only hope that Optimus has taken our silence and the news reports of what's been happening in the area as evidence enough for him to act, but Detroit is still very far... and by the time they arrive it may be too late. We've never had the advantage of speed that the Decepticons do, without having any real power in the air, and for all we know more of them could be on their way as well. Perhaps even Megatron himself..." That certainly wasn't uplifting. Truthfully, Allison had wondered why more of the Autobots hadn't decided to show up besides Ratchet. At the time, when she'd sat and thought about it, it had always seemed wildly careless and irresponsible, but if there was no way for them to even know what was going on aside from counting on the media coverage making its way over there... it just seemed too primitive and unreliable. It was ironic that such technologically advanced beings that could be crippled by something like that so easily.

"Are you trying to tell me that Soundwave can read minds... like a psycic? But I'm not a machine... so how could he do that to me?" It was hard to wrap her brain around the concept of a robot being able to read minds, and she didn't know if that applied to just other robots or humans as well. Then again, it was easy to forget that they weren't just robots, and there was more there than just outward appearances. It was an unnerving, intrusive thought, and made her feel terrified of his silent, violent presence even more. Wheeljack looked positively horrified.

"It has always been a threat to the integrity of our intelligence network. Not only do his minicons scout information for him, but he can interpret electrical patterns and process them from their original coherent meanings. It is easier for him to tap into our brains, and humans may be organic, but your bodies are filled with electrical impulses every second of your lives until the time you die. He can interpret your thoughts and he will if he needs to... that's why if he has no reason to assume you're informed he may not bother..." the looseness in which he spoke those last few words was unconvincing, almost like Wheeljack was trying to dance around the fact that Soundwave likely would do it anyway, just for kicks. But then it made sense, why Wheeljack had simply taken the book from her, rather than let her see what might be inside. If she became privy to what her boss had been carrying on about this whole time, and what he'd disappeared for, well then that made her a target.

But it now made Wheeljack a target instead.

Allison frowned at him. "We don't even know what's in there yet... so why would you risk your own safety over that?" She asked it anyway even though she knew. "I'm not stupid I know what you're doing. You think we'd be better off if Soundwave went after you instead."

"Well I am slightly closer to his size Allison..." Wheeljack said, a subtle return of humor glimmering in his eyes before he went back to frowning behind his mask. "I don't think you'd fare very well in a fight with him..."

"That isn't an acceptable answer," she pointed out, trying to fight off an inopportune smile.

"It will be very painful," Wheeljack said bluntly. Allison didn't know if her wince was from imagining him being in pain at the cost of her relative safety, or the possibility of Soundwave torturing her. Either way, it wasn't pleasant. "For all intents and purposes I think it's a very reasonable answer. Any reason for you to be less of a target for them, the better, so for now until we decide what to do I will keep this book. We can discuss what we want to do with it later..." he said. "Besides, if Soundwave had still been lingering around, it would have been best to take a look at it once we were safe, telepath or not." Wheeljack looked entirely finished with the conversation, possibly not wanting to dwell on such a depressing topic, but it apparently needed to be said. Now knowing that little gem of information, it made her brief encounter with Soundwave even more of a lingering torment. Allison didn't even know if she wanted to talk about it anymore either, even if Wheeljack had wanted to.

If Wheeljack wasn't going to bring it up on his own, then she felt this was as good a time as any to pry it out of him.

"Wheeljack," Allison said after a few moments of silence. "I wanted to ask you about something..."

"You want to know why I left you, after Starscream attacked," Wheeljack said, finishing her sentence for her. Allison's pondering silence was apparently enough affirmation for him to continue. "I'm sorry. Please understand it was not because of you. I simply needed to... think."

"Ratchet started to argue with me... and I'm sorry if that bothered you. I guess I was in too much shock I just wasn't thinking..." Allison wasn't intentionally trying to bait him, but she wanted to encourage Wheeljack to tell her what was really on his mind. Ratchet had gotten testy, but she didn't think Wheeljack had fled because he'd felt like a kid caught in the middle of their parents arguing. Allison knew there had been something more, but Wheeljack had a right to say it himself.

"No, it wasn't that." Wheeljack said quietly.

"Isn't there something you want to tell me then?"

Wheeljack blinked at her a few times, eyes flashing as he stared at her with what must have been surprise. Allison tried to keep her lofty gaze level to not arouse suspicion, but something must have clicked in that expansive mind of his, for he started to fidget nervously.

"Whatever could you mean?" Wheeljack said airily, clearly trying to avoid her stare, for he was now looking in every direction but her eyes.

"I had a little chat with Ratchet the other day..." Allison frowned. "I just wish I understood what you were really thinking sometimes..." She walked up to him and reached up to touch his fist, which was still thrown over his knee. He didn't physically respond to her touch but he did look at her with some trepidation.

"It's rather complicated," he said finally, and she thought, that maybe his panels didn't blink for how quietly he muttered. "I don't know Allison." He tapped the side of his head with a finger. "There's an awful lot up here." He tapped her own head gently. "I don't know if there's enough space in here for it." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Now you're just being mean," she half-smiled. "I know what it isn't, but can't you tell me what it is? Please, I may be slightly inferior in the intellect department but I have something you don't, actual ears, which makes me more advanced than you, wouldn't you agree?"

"Ratchet has a very big mouth. I might consider strangling him..." Wheeljack chuckled, and Allison smiled to see the brightness return to his eyes. "I don't fully understand what my Spark is telling me, but I do know that it reaches out to you in a way that I haven't quite worked out how to process yet. It... well... I have craved the companionship for a very long time..." he stopped, presumably noticing that she was watching him intently and mistaking that as complete bewilderment. "I don't mean to suggest that-"

"I know what you mean Wheeljack, you don't have to explain that to me..." Allison said, saving him the trouble. "You, and Ratchet I think assume that humans only understand affection in terms of physical intimacy, but I think you can give me more credit than that. Humans aren't entirely that simple-minded..." she said, patting his hand. "It's fairly obvious you haven't been around many humans..."

"I fear I am guilty of that... but I have indeed come to respect your tremendous insight on many things, which was something I had always underestimated. Perhaps that is why I have grown so fond of you, which compels me to keep you shielded from danger." It almost sounded like he sniffed, but it could have been a trick on her ears.

"Well you are quite a catch, I bet you didn't know," Allison said slyly, and giggled at his blank expression. He was tilting his head at her like a perplexed puppy. "Why don't you check the Internet later and let me know once you figure out I just complimented you?" She laughed, as he brightened suddenly, perhaps suddenly understanding her insinuations. His eyes curved to indicate that he was smiling. Allison wondered if he would ever have the courage to show her his real face, but she didn't want to bring that subject up and possibly kill the mood. Maybe someday.

"Wheeljack... you are aware that I will eventually... be gone right?" Allison looked up at him mournfully, not having actually thought about that until now. Wheeljack, to put it bluntly, was very old, and would likely live for many many generations to come. It was an impossibility for her to live up to such an achievement, and based on what Ratchet had told her, it seemed like that would cause more hurt than necessary with her eventual passing.

"Where would you go?" He returned, and she blinked at him. He couldn't possibly be that naive, but maybe he just didn't get the wording she'd used. Regardless, it meant she had to tell him.

"Eventually I'm going to get old... and die... presumably long before you do, and you'll just keep going on. Why would you bond to me and risk being in pain once I'm gone... especially considering that I really could die any day now?" she asked quietly, now feeling her heart being tugged in multiple directions at once. She really hadn't gone down this train of thought before and she somehow doubted that Wheeljack had clearly thought that through either. Ratchet said when the bond is broken, by death, or anything else, the other half is left in pieces. This was something that was out of her control and she hated it. Wheeljack, considering her for a few moments, finally understanding exactly what she meant.

"Allison I have lived for a very, very long time. I have been alone all of those cycles up until now, mostly by choice, so absorbed in my work that I never considered anything else. I was always so focused on what was in front of me that it was never a hint in my processor until now. After coming to this planet, having my focus and goals changed so drastically in front of me makes it difficult to keep up. My Spark would not have considered these things when Bonding to you. I had been alone for many centuries, so perhaps my Spark finally got fed up with me," Wheeljack looked eerily calm. "This was not something I had control of. It does not matter what is to come, but what is happening now."

"You would still be here. I would be long gone, and perhaps even my entire species. You'll have forgotten me by then..." she said quietly, drawing away from him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Somehow, she couldn't quite convince herself that it wasn't her fault.

"Allison, my memory isn't like a human's. It doesn't deteriorate. It doesn't forget. You're up here. And that's where you're going to stay." He tapped his own head lightly. "What my Spark compels me to do is bigger than both of us, bigger than this war even. The life force of my race is a powerful thing, a gift from Primus himself to sustain us and carry on our souls throughout our lifetimes and beyond to the Well of All Sparks. It is our very essence; a collective of everything we feel and experience throughout our lifetimes. Without them, we would be lifeless shells."

"So you mean to say that your spark is actually who you are... and your body is just a vessel?"

"Yes and no. While there is some truth to that statement, this body is still very much me."

"So...if you died... you could just place your spark into another body? I mean... would your new body accept your spark?"

"Actually the question is would the spark accept the new body. But the chances of it doing so are very slim. Like I said, my body is tied to my spark in more than one way. And frankly... I'd really rather not." He tapped his chest. "I've grown used to this old husk." He paused a moment, thinking. "That's why whatever my spark tells me, I have to listen to it. And it tells me that you are in fact quite special, so I will fight for you. If I have to."

"I could die tomorrow..." Allison said sullenly. "You'll be in pain..."

"Or I could die. Really it's no different."

"You say that so casually."

"War does not care for how long we have the potential to live, for on the battlefield all lifespans are as tenuous as the next. I would prefer to live and have the memory of being bonded, even to such a small little organic," he nudged her face lightly with his finger, "Then to die not having felt that tug on my Spark." He paused. "I hope I said that in a way that makes sense," he said apologetically.

Allison smiled as she raised her hands and lightly placed them on the back of one of his large fingers. "You did," she said. They remained that way for a short time, just enjoying a quiet moment of understanding.

"Allison, I'm not insensitive enough to assume that you would... indulge me in this. I can't force you to make any one decision about your own life. You may one day find a, ah, male of your own species and decide to-"

"I have plenty of time to worry about that," Allison said, stopping him. "Besides... I... uh," she absently fingered her hair, trying to think of what to say. "Look, I'm not really bursting at the seams with friends and lovers. I have no family here. Sure, I have Danny as a friend... but every time I picture what life would be like if you hadn't showed up I feel... nothing. That's pretty much all I had." Allison paused, thinking this realization through and truly feeling it. "I realize that what you may feel for me is not that kind of love, but it is still love, and I know how I feel, and I think I really like being around you."

"You do?" Wheeljack seemed a bit stunned, but the brightness in his eyes was not lost on her. It almost looked like relief.

"Just a little bit." Allison laughed lightly, and brought her thumb and forefinger together to drive the point home.

Wheeljack seemed to smile, and his fingers brushed against her ribcage instilling a yelp of surprise from Allison as his fingers flexed. Not expecting to be tickled, Allison couldn't couldn't stop herself from choking with laughter.

"S-Stop it!"

Thankfully he did, because if he had continued Allison was afraid he might have cracked a rib. Breathless, Allison beckoned him closer. Wheeljack leaned forward close enough that she could touch touch his face, and she rested her hand on his cheek.

"Thank you Wheeljack," she said heavily, letting herself smile with content. The Autobot hummed softly, his eyes glowing pleasantly at the praising touch.

"You don't smile often," Wheeljack finally said, startling Allison out of her reverie. She was surprised that someone of his nature would have been paying attention to something like that. It was something she'd never paid attention to herself.

"Oh," she started, flustering a little and drawing away from him. "Well... I guess there hasn't really been a whole lot to smile about lately..." Given the current state of her rather displaced existence there hadn't exactly been cause for celebration recently. Wheeljack wisely didn't find it something to argue.

"Well then, I suppose I will need to give you reasons to smile then. That might take some time for me to work out... you femmes are after all, such silly little creatures who seem enchanted with assuming that everyone else can read your minds, even when you verbally contradict, what might actually be on your mind... Lots of research you know, hours and hours of study-" it took a moment for Allison to realize that Wheeljack was actually at that moment teasing her in an attempt to be funny, and that did force a smile out of her.

"Oh stop it!" she laughed, playfully slapping the plates of his nose. "We aren't that hard to crack... eventually you'll learn to read my mind..." she said slyly, and Wheeljack laughed.

"I'll look forward to it."

"Now you're just being mean!"

"Oh, I am not!" Wheeljack said, drawing back to stand. He seemed more relaxed, perhaps even relieved at his own admissions, and it seemed to have done him a mountain of good. It helped Allison relax, seeing Wheeljack so at ease. He transformed, his door opening quickly as his engine lurched softly to spur her to action. "Come on, we need to get moving before Ratchet re-formats me into a desk lamp."

"Would he actually do that?" Allison said as she climbed aboard, letting the door shut with a soft click next to her.

"I don't know about you, but I'd rather not tempt him."

Wheeljack's wheels spun as he picked up speed, leaving the derelict grounds underneath the freeway behind.

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**02/27/2011 - Another major change in tone, and less yelling and being a petulant brat. Also, I completely removed a chapter.. It was dumb. But I somehow managed to make this fluffier as a compromise. :)**

**Pure fluff. I wanted to finally establish where they are on certain levels, so I felt like this chapter was necessary. Things will start moving again coming up soon. I know it ends kind of abruptly, but as the conversation is essentially over and things have already been laid out into the open, I didn't want to linger on the topic and felt that ending it in a way where they're contemplative was the best way to segue into the next chapter.**

**The way they care for each other, I felt I wanted to explore from the perspective of two individuals bonding in a way that is intimate, but not romantic or even intimate in a physical sense; like two people suffering through the same traumatic event become bonded because they've shared an experience. I wanted things to be more personal, but again didn't want it to turn into a slash-fest. I have no problem with people who do that, that just isn't the direction I wanted to go, so there's never going to be any hints of romance. Just fluff, because I am a sucker for fluff. I know its probably been done before, but this is just how I wanted to explore the characters, most notably, give the Cybertronians more development in a way that I can connect to. I'm done with this topic, so you won't hear me blabber on about it anymore..**

**Anyway, onward-ho.**


	25. Shift in Tactics

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**This chapter became more exposition heavy then I'd originally intended, but I tried to wrap it up in such a way that moved it forward. From here on out, I've gotten most of the background exposition out of the way and I've tried to separate it out in spaces to not dump it all in one spot. In the future, there will be very little background descriptions. **

**With this chapter I've taken a lot of liberties in explaining Cybertron and the dynamic between the Autobots and the Decepticons, a lot of which has been pulled from the lore of Transformers Animated. For the most part, my characterizations and the world I'm creating falls into that realm, or at least, what I've intended. I've also added a lot of stuff from my own imagination, so be warned, this is entirely just one person's interpretation.**

**And this is a long chapter. Have some coffee ready.**

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The time had passed easily since making it back out onto the road, and it was the first time in a while that Wheeljack's topic of conversation didn't pertain to their current situation. He was beginning to sound more like his old self, which was a much needed comfort. Allison decided she liked Wheeljack best when he was in silly mode, for those were also the times that he was the most forthcoming. There was definitely a different overall feeling of relief, as if the conversation they'd shared earlier about their emotional states had lifted some kind of symbolic weight that had hung over them. It had stifled their interaction, pushing them in the direction of polite evasion of anything personal.

Of course, Wheeljack had never treated her as anything other than a friend, but he certainly seemed more comfortable sharing more personal musings with her about himself than he had before. Allison had always felt a little disconcerted with the amount of personal information pertaining to her that Wheeljack seemed to be in possession of, all while carefully guarding his own secrets. It created a decidedly uneven balance of trust that she found a little bit uncomfortable. All that had apparently changed after goading him to splurge his feelings to her, finally, and it had only opened the floodgates to more personal discourse. It was all on the basis of friendship of course, and Allison trusted that she'd never have to worry about fending off any romantic advances of a 30 foot tall robot, which would have been odd.

For a while the two spoke about mostly inconsequential things. Wheeljack had taken to browsing the radio stations, an activity he had only briefly had the chance to experiment with while busy stalking her, and every once in a while he would inquire about the particular song he stopped at. Most of them were current pop songs, and some weren't always literal and used verbal symbolism that was beyond Wheeljack's immediate, alien comprehension. Wheeljack interpreted things very literally, as Allison came to understand, so she found herself explaining the different terminologies used and what the artists were trying to say. Some were more embarrassing than others, others were simply alien in concept. Trying to describe a weepy ballad was not the same as trying to describe the lyrics of an obscene hip-hop song to an extraterrestrial robot. Wheeljack wasn't totally clueless as to certain biological functions, and the concept of romance appeared to be familiar, but humans had their own, entirely unique way of dealing with these matters that Allison was curious to find were more universal than she had thought.

Inevitably Wheeljack got bored with channel hopping, and ended up silencing the radio after Allison had cleared her throat, expecting the question that was obviously to come. Allison realized that there was still a lot about Wheeljack's past that she didn't know; maybe now was the best time to ask certain questions since he seemed to be in a generously talkative mood. Her most prominent curiosity came from simply wanting to see his face uncovered, despite knowing that it was obviously something that he didn't want to show. If he was modest enough to hide his face even from other Autobots, comrades he'd known for generations, he probably wasn't to the level of comfort yet that would grant Allison such an opportunity. She wasn't even sure why she was fascinated with such a romanticism, like seeing his face was some kind of dramatic crescendo to their friendship and it would finally mean that Wheeljack had dropped all his personal barriers of pride. After all, it wasn't like she had any expectations, except from seeing Ratchet, who's face was clearly open. She'd never seen Ratchet deploy a battle mask whenever he'd been a part of a scuffle, so all she had were assumptions he had one at all.

All the subtle nuances and hints of emotion when he spoke were clearly there, despite having a face made entirely of metal. In fact, for all his blustering and self-proclaimed haughtiness, the old Autobot was an open book when it came to displaying emotion. Maybe it was more of an age thing, but in any case it only made her slightly wistful to actually see the emotion on Wheeljack's face. Until now, the only real clues she had were hints from his eyes. She didn't want to pressure him, however. If Wheeljack ever intended to tell her all about it, he'd do it when he was ready. It wasn't exactly the sort of question you asked someone. Some scars ran deeper than others.  
Still, there were other things she wanted to know.

"What did you do before the war began?" she ventured curiously. Wheeljack had only spoken briefly before, mostly in passing, of things he'd done in the past, but he'd never elaborated on what his actual job had been. Allison was assuming they had "jobs" on Cybertron, and that whatever Wheeljack's had been, he had probably been really good at it.

"An interesting question, though my job was hardly what you might call dazzling. Incredibly exciting and scientifically interesting, if you're interested in that sort of thing. In fact I remember the great Alpha Trion once said to me that..." He must have noticed the straight smile on Allison's face, one that she couldn't quell when Wheeljack was derailing his own train of thought. "Actually, ah, I spent most of my time researching more efficient ways to produce and distribute Energon throughout Iacon's main power grid." Wheeljack fumbled back into place. There were more words that followed, but the more crucial parts of his dialog were completely lost to Allison's limited understanding of robotic alien techno-smithing. Eventually Wheeljack noted the lost look on her face. "It's occurred to me just this moment that I've never told you what Energon is."

"Nope."

"Energon is... well... It's many things Allison. It is our main power and fuel source. It's a chemical of a very complicated nature, but very rich in the chemical bonds that can be broken to release energy. We've been able to reproduce it on Earth, but it's a much more complicated, and slow-moving process… one of the many things that started the war…" he mumbled scornfully, trailing his words out to eventual silence. He seemed to be thinking. "This is something that I believe is familiar to your species."

"Oh you have no idea," Allison said, grimly. She rested her chin in her hand to stare out the window. Outside it was the same endless expanses of grass that had rolled by when she was Ratchet's passenger, and it was just as dull as it was before. Watching the same scenery go by sparked up memories of Ratchet the day before, and with a start, she found herself actually missing the miserable old man. Thinking fondly of the brief, but fulfilling conversation they'd shared earlier about something as mundane as cows, it made her heart sink just a little wondering what he was doing all alone.

With a great sigh, Allison tried to shove those thoughts aside, and instead focus on her current conversation with Wheeljack. She hoped that if anything, Ratchet wasn't mad at her.

"Except we fight over something we can't seem to replace…" she said with just a little disdain.

"Indeed," Wheeljack said knowingly. "I know you might be thinking why haven't we shared this knowledge with you… after all, Energon burns as clean as water, and it does not take a lot of resources to produce. Actually, by manipulating water we were able to engineer the new chemical structure quite easily, but it takes a long time to produce, and it's not so simple to just give it away and expect all the world's problems to be easily solved. There's a lot of politics involved, something I've found quite frustrating, and it would be a very large, difficult cultural shift for the entire world," Wheeljack said profoundly, and despite it being a miserable prospect, Allison knew his words were true. Something like that would indeed take a great deal of thought. "Of course your government is aware of us. Prime has been working with them very closely through our human liason, but as for what I cannot say…" Wheeljack seemed to sigh, engine rumbling softly. Truthfully the prospect of their shared technology had never actually crossed Allison's mind, but she was grateful that he'd been concerned enough over the state of the world for it to cross his.

"That's okay, I'd assume you can't share top secret things with me anyway," she said, watching a field of mournfully spinning windmills go by. Wheeljack grumbled.

"No, I mean I don't actually know. Like I said, Prime doesn't always share everything with us. He has a lot of things going on, and generally we have our own business to attend to… it's very unorganized sometimes… but oh, we don't even know if Energon would actually work with your technology. I've tested it as a power source for various human devices, usually with rather dramatic results…" Wheeljack was babbling, again, and Allison rolled her eyes with only and inkling of what these dramatic results actually were.

"And those are?" she said, tapping the dashboard knowingly. He rumbled pleasantly, knowing he was being teased.

"Only small amounts of destruction," he countered defensively. "The first was what you humans call a television. That really didn't work, and glass ended up everywhere making quite a mess. A few other various appliances, then I tried a small sport utility vehicle-"

"That's hardly small!" Allison blurted, trying to imagine how that would work.

"Well it didn't so much as blow up, but it was more like an extravagant melting process… That made a little bit of a mess too. Ratchet wasn't entirely pleased seeing as I'd decided to test it in his infirmary…" Allison couldn't remember ever seeing a car actually melt, and wasn't even aware such a feat was possible. But as exciting as that sounded she wasn't sure she actually wanted to. "The point I'm trying to make to you Allison, is that I've been trying… and while Energon works to keep us alive, much like your own blood does, I'm not yet certain that it will be of any use to your planet."

"Its alright, we've been trying to solve that puzzle for years Wheeljack." Allison cleared her throat, wanting to change the subject. "What did you do during the war? I mean...Did you fight?" What she knew she meant was, did you kill anyone? But that wasn't an easy question to ask, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer. Wheeljack was silent for a few moments, which made Allison think she'd crossed the line. She was about to try and change the subject again, to anything, but before she could Wheeljack finally answered.

"I tried not to," he began. "For a while I was able to avoid combat by volunteering to join the Cybertron Defense Research Division, which was commissioned by the Autobot Elite Guard. It was there I was able to provide assistance to my fellow Autobots in a more passive role."

"Were you scared?" Allison asked, feeling Wheeljack tremble nervously around her.

"Terrified, but only with the notion of killing another being. I wasn't afraid of being involved in the resistance, and I wanted desperately to be. But I'm not a fighter, at least, I wasn't at the time. I felt my expertise would be more suited to working on our defense network. Unfortunately that meant I was also responsible for engineering weapons, something I wasn't particularly fond of doing. The moral tests of inventing devices for dealing death and destruction was not something I'd cared to do, but I had no choice. It was either that, or risk getting drafted by the Elite Guard and being sent to the front lines, only to be forced to directly kill or be killed. I…" Wheeljack faltered, choosing his words carefully. "…Didn't have the stomach for that sort of violence. But after a while you accept that you do what you must, and the death around you becomes so commonplace it desensitizes you. The reasons for fighting became so blurred and distorted that eventually you forget why your race is killing itself into extinction…" He sighed. "You must think I'm a coward."

Allison rested a hand on his door handle, in lieu of an arm to touch.

"No, I don't. There's nothing cowardly about wanting to avoid killing. Besides, you had a much greater use, and it would be terrible for all those brains to go to waste in some barbaric battlefield..." She chanced, feeling brave and impassioned with the knowledge that her guardian had never been some mindless killing machine designed for war. It was both a relief and something so welcoming it was hard to describe, but filled her with such a warmth and new found affection for him. "Besides, I don't think I could ever do what you did."

He was silent for a long time, and Allison wondered if he was possibly remembering something from the past. Perhaps, something he had done, or witnessed, and it made her wonder with the type of "brain" he had, how fresh and real those memories would seem to him. With humans, memories could be distorted, distant and fuzzy, and most of the time disjointed to the point that you couldn't remember much of anything at all.

With Wheeljack, were his recollections as clear as the moments they actually happened? Memories from tens of thousands of years ago? Allison didn't think that bearing that kind of weight through experience was something a human could handle. She wondered if speaking about this to her, a relative outsider, was his way of coping with what he'd had to live with in his head for so long. She was only too happy to let him share if that was good for him, and didn't want to dare disrupt him with the dizzying amount of questions that were on her mind. There was just too much to take in. A whole other race, species, that had been carrying on with their lives and their troubles for so long. It almost made everything her planet had gone through seem so trivial and unimportant.

"The Autobots were not prepared for war. We weren't built to be. That was what the Decepticons were actually designed for; we were merely designed to keep things on Cybertron running. When the Decepticons rose against us on Megatron's command, we were outnumbered and unprepared, so it was urgent that all of our resources were shifted to counter that threat. Megatron was hell-bent on taking everything, including Cybertron itself. He was willing to lay the planet to waste if needed, and build a new empire on top of its ruins. We had to prevent that, regardless of what it cost us." Wheeljack said darkly. Speaking Megatron's name was apparently something of great difficulty.

"Perhaps the Autobots knew this, and maybe that's why most of us left. We knew that in the end… because of our own petty insecurities and treatment of our own military, in a way, we were at fault for the war in the first place…but the Autobot High Council would have never admitted that in the comfort of their own Assembly Halls. The truth is Allison, in the beginning, the Decepticons had fought for a cause, fair treatment, the need for respect, the imbalance of resource distribution among the classes, for something. All noble things. But over time, that taste for combat and the honor found in battle, the very nature of their design, became so integrated into their instincts that they could not be stopped. It was a moving behemoth that could not be held back. They wanted Cybertron for themselves, and they would not rest until all who opposed were all dead."

That certainly was a surprising revelation. In a way, it made the story not so completely split into sections of black and white, or to put it more bluntly, good and evil. The morale ambiguity was fascinating to her, and it only accentuated just how human Wheeljack really felt to her despite the obvious physical peculiarities. Apparently the petty, arrogant pride and satisfaction of political whims was not entirely a human invention, but had very nearly destroyed Wheeljack's entire civilization. It painted their presence in a whole different light; in war, sometimes there is no true good side, but a clash of differences of opinions, thought, culture, that drives those to sometimes do unspeakable things for the sake of survival.

Could it have been prevented? Likely. But it was obviously far too late for that now, for once the steam engine gathers momentum it takes nothing short of an impenetrable wall to stop it. She couldn't fault Wheeljack for doing what had been necessary for his own safety, and the safety of others. In the same situation she wondered if she would have done anything different.

"What happened to Cybertron?" Allison finally asked. It was a question she'd wanted answered for a long time.

"Nearly uninhabitable. What remains of the Elite Guard and the High Council continue to flaunt their own arrogance and refuse to acknowledge any of the problems from the beginning. They stubbornly remain on a planet that dies around them, while what remains of the Decepticon army continue to struggle for dominancy."

"Optimus Prime was never one to embrace persecution from the basis of mere class differences. Regretfully, I had always been so absorbed in my work that I had never had the time to acknowledge there was a problem until it was too late. I would have sympathized with them, had they not threatened those I cared about, and Prime has always been one of the same mind. I believe that's why he convinced the High Council to allow him clearance to command a crew off the planet, under the guise of Space Bridge repair… all for the "greater good". To them, we were ensuring the movement of resources and even seeking out new ones. To Optimus Prime, while yes, that partially was true to an extent, we were also outcasts; Refugees from a planet that was no longer our own. He was protecting those he cared about, and was in a position of power among the Guard to be able to get away with such a fib. I was with him, and that is how we ended up here."

Allison was silent for a long time, staring out the window but not actually seeing what she was looking at. She was too distracted, turning everything over that she'd just learned in her mind, trying to make sense of it. It was a lot to absorb, and hard to still picture that somewhere out there, on another planet perhaps galaxies away, they were still fighting. It was fascinating in a morbid way, but also very overwhelming. Wheeljack continued.

"The Autobot Elite… they are not evil Allison, they are merely disillusioned. It is hard to shatter the Status Quo, and when one in power become so accustomed to their lives and comforts how they are, sometimes it is hard to change them. They felt that in their Sparks they were doing what was right, and in the beginning, so did the Decepticons. They would have done anything, even monstrous things to win the war and preserve our race using means that they felt were justifiable. They were forced along with the same disastrous momentum that carried the Decepticons, and in turn both sides committed very serious acts of violence against the other… Things might have changed for the better, but when you have seen war as long as I have, after a while it turns into a very unattainable dream."

"I understand." Allison said quietly, and truthfully did, but she honestly didn't want to think about it anymore. It brought things rather close, uncomfortably so, to her own planet in a way. Allison was thinking it was probably a bad idea to bring up the war in the first place, possibly stirring up dormant feelings that Wheeljack had long since hidden away.

She remembered seeing Wheeljack fight for her. There had certainly been no hesitation as he'd thrown himself at Soundwave, wrestled and grappled with Starscream at the construction site, throwing himself in even greater danger in the line of fire. All this despite claiming that it was not something that he set out to do, nor had ever wanted to do in the beginning, but along the way he'd been forced to adapt in order to survive with the rest of them. It made her wonder exactly how long they'd been struggling with each other on Earth, and just how deadly Wheeljack could be. Was what she'd seen just the tip of the iceberg, the terrifying battle scenes she'd bore witness too nothing in comparison to full out conflict of an entire military of them?

They had left to escape all of that, to escape the war and escape being killed. Had it been cowardice? Maybe not. Perhaps the motivations for leaving the planet had been for their own sanity: a begrudging acceptance that all decency and chance for redemption had been lost, even amongst their own faction, and it was best to back down when you had a chance; a chance to start over.

But on Earth? And Megatron was here… so that part of the puzzle was still unanswered.

"So… how long have you actually been here?" Allison decided to begin her questioning through that avenue, hoping to casually segue into how exactly they had all ended up on Earth without anyone knowing. Something like that would more than likely make the news.

"Approximately Fifty-million years ago… give or take a few thousand years-" Wheeljack began, without even a beat of hesitation.

"W-what?"

Well that certainly explained how nobody noticed them arrive. There wasn't anybody alive to see them.

"About ninety-five percent of that time was spent in emergency stasis lock Allison," Wheeljack laughed. "Our arrival wasn't exactly intentional. We were shot down, our ship too damaged to fight the insatiable pull of your planet's gravity." Wheeljack said, swerving expertly to avoid a ridiculously slow car in the lane in front of them.

"And who shot you down?" that was the most obvious answer but she asked the question anyway.

"Well, for starters, Megatron had decided to chase us, leaving one of his most trusted on Cybertron, who's location I'm afraid, has long been lost to wherever Shockwave decided to disappear to. The last we heard from Cybertron was that he had been killed during a raid, but frankly I believe that statement to be a load of slag." Allison was a little shocked to hear him sound so frank, and had no doubts that "slag" was obviously some kind of Cybertronian cursive. "There was no physical evidence left behind, so in my opinion his whereabouts are as much a mystery as Megatron's sense of honor. He's still alive though, I can guarantee it. And I'll bet my Gyro-Inhibitor that Megatron knows exactly where he is too."

"Shockwave is obviously another Decepticon, I'm assuming." She was trying hard to remember all the bizarre names, but at some point she knew she was going to lose track of who was who. But figuring she'd never meet this Shockwave, and being a Decepticon, it wasn't exactly a total loss if she forgot who he was.

"That's correct, and a trickster at that. He's sneaky. They are all of course, very good at deception, obviously. But Shockwave is far more than that. More so than the rest of them, perhaps even Megatron."

"Really? Wow, I'm impressed." Allison replied, her eyes widening with faint surprise.

"Shockwave is impressive. He's intelligent, ruthless, and about as strong as Megatron. But what makes him potentially worse is he is completely without emotion. All Cybertronians are built on logic and circuitry, but like all sentient lifeforms we have the benefit of self awareness. Somehow, Shockwave seems to completely bypass any moral and emotional stimulus. It doesn't seem to be a part of him, or at the very least he's good at hiding it. He's ruled by logic. Megatron, on the other hand, is fueled by emotion, and emotion can lead to mistakes. And he's made many. What makes Shockwave ultimately so sinister is he also embodies the literal translation of the Decepticon name. He's good at hiding, but he's brilliant at deceiving and disguises. He initially served in the Autobot High Council, where he unfortunately had access to lots of important information. It was a long time before anyone caught him out. But, you'll likely never cross paths with him." Wheeljack finished.

"Did you ever meet him?"

"Once or twice, but never on the battlefield, thankfully. Megatron could not have left a more capable Decepticon in his stead while he decided to pursue Optimus Prime and the rest of us. He has a long-standing disagreement with Prime, and whenever they are in each other's vicinity it generally does not end civilly. We were doing a fine job outrunning them, and in fact, were never aware that they were following us. We were docked at a malfunctioning Space Bridge when Megatron attacked. In the chaos of the moment the Bridge was initialized, and our ship, the Ark, was sucked into a trans-warp, which I suppose is what you'd call a 'worm hole'."

Allison remained silent as Wheeljack continued, the scenery suddenly inconsequental.

"Megatron's ship, the Nemesis, was thrown into the trans-warp as well, and as fate would have it we ended up in Earth's orbit," Wheeljack said, weaving in and out of a pack of cars in an effort to avoid the obstruction. He clearly wanted to be back "home" just as much as she did, and Allison wondered if Wheeljack was tired. She certainly would be if she'd had to ferry herself around all over the state for an entire day.

"But why would Megatron have followed Optimus Prime, when he could very well just take the planet with a major part of your forces gone?" Allison continued, now thoroughly intrigued.

"I couldn't say Allison, perhaps it was just one of those things. Megatron is smart, but he's also impulsive. If he is maddened enough by someone, such as Prime, and sees a chance to take them down, well, he'll shut everything out and do it. We were on the unlucky end of that hand I'm afraid," Wheeljack said. Allison was gnawing on her lip, thinking.

"And when you crashed here, what happened to you? Wouldn't Megatron just come down and finish the job?" she asked, chewing on a finger nail nervously. If there had been a ship of them, then there were certainly more than just Starscream and Soundwave running around.

"Our ships were both damaged beyond control, but we crashed in different parts of the planet. The Nemesis crashed in what you know as the Atlantic Ocean. Our ship ended up beneath what is now the Great Lakes, but at the time of the crash they weren't lakes yet," Wheeljack said thoughtfully. "Out of nearly two hundred Autobots that we had on board, only a few handfuls of us survived the crash. Knowing we were going down, we initiated emergency stasis to hopefully survive the impact. You have a very hard planet Allison…" for a moment Wheeljack sounded as if he was joking, but his voice hardened again almost immediately. "Ratchet had a lot of work on his hands when we were all reactivated, and I think that was the final blow to his temperament. He was grumpy and unbearable before, but after that he was never the same. There were a lot of bodies, Sparks long extinguished, and without any other course of action they were dismantled after proper respects had been paid..."

There was a pregnant silence where neither of them spoke. Allison didn't think it appropriate to question this news, but it did help answer the questions as to why Ratchet was the why he was.

"He will never talk about it though." Wheeljack continued. "He was quiet and withdrawn for a long time afterwards, years even. Eventually he calmed down once we knew the Decepticons had joined us on the planet and had awakened nearly the same time. There were a few skirmishes here and there, but Megatron's tactics have changed. He's not satisfied with just having Cybertron, and with our ships damaged beyond repair, he will try and take this planet's resources too."

"Oh…" Allison said, partially stunned. That certainly didn't bode well. Optimus Prime's team was now the only thing that was protecting the planet from Megatron, and that was an uncomfortable thought. Not that she lacked faith in the Autobot leader's abilities, but if they were truly alone and something were to happen, say, this Shockwave deciding to rock up out of nowhere with reinforcements, that had the potential to be disastrous.

"We won't let that happen. Optimus Prime will lay down his life before he allows that to happen, and I would effectively do anything to see that you do not suffer what would become far worse than your ideas of Hell." His voice was stone-cold serious, and it instigated a chill through Allison that was not pleasing at all. It made her very uncomfortable. She'd never really believed in a Heaven or Hell, but knew the concept enough to be aware of how terrible it would be. Now she felt all moody.

"Hrm…" was all she responded with, leaning her head heavily against the door frame below the window. She hoped, that a car wouldn't linger near them long enough to see what she was doing, but Wheeljack's windows were dark enough that it wouldn't stand out too much that the driver appeared to be snoozing rather than driving. "Why did you wake up?" she asked after a few moments of silence between the two of them.

"Our ship's security systems aborted stasis lock once it started to pick up significant radioactive disturbances in the atmosphere and on the ground level. I believe, that's what you would refer to as nuclear testing," Wheeljack said, the subtle change in his voice notable, for Allison was sure he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Wow, our nuclear bombs woke you up…" she said with no subtle amount of bitterness. Their own weapons of mass destruction had effectively activated an entire alien race, that inherently was, one giant weapon of mass destruction. The paradox was maddening. "So that would mean you woke up in the mid twentieth century. My history is rusty-"

"The year was 1945," he said swiftly, making a sound almost as if to clear his throat. "Called 'Trinity' on July 16th, 1945. Rather primitive in engineering, but effective for what was needed I suppose..." Wheeljack scattered off wistfully, but he didn't offer anything more. Allison was wondering if she should feel mildly offended by that, after all, those "primitive" bombs ended up killing a very large number of people, despite not being up to Wheeljack's level of specifications. She had to force herself to remember it was the technologically advanced alien talking, and not necessarily Wheeljack...

"Thanks, now did you actually know that or did you just look it up on the internet?" Allison asked, sounding a little more irate than she actually intended to be, but the subject of war she supposed had put her in a foul mood. It was possible that Wheeljack noticed this, because he was quiet for a few more moments.

"Maybe? Have I said something to offend you?" he said tentatively, and all at once Allison knew her error and tried to relax.

"No, I'm sorry," she sighed, petting the dashboard lightly. "I think I might just be tired.. it's sort of been a long day, and generally speaking sitting in a car for long periods of time tends to make people sleepy…" she said, blinking heavily and yawning. She could feel Wheeljack shift subtly, without losing even a second of momentum. Wheeljack's backseat was starting to look rather tempting. "Um, do you mind?" she asked, pointing to the back hoping that he'd know what she was doing.

"Of course not," he said, and even before he finished she was awkwardly trying to climb into the back seat. She heard gears shifting, and if she didn't know any better she could have sworn that the front seats moved to allow her easier passage. Surprisingly the back seat was cozier than it actually looked, considering what it might actually have been, but there was hardly another moment of thought before she was huddled against the elbow of the cushions.

It was easy to slip into a doze, where she dreamt of, what she could only assume was her mind's interpretation of Cybertron. It was covered in mushroom clouds, over endless planes of searing, molten metal and stone. It was only a dream. Allison was aware enough to know that it was, but she could feel the heat of the radiation against her skin as if it was real. It was hard to place where she was or what was happening, for the panels of metal seemed to shift and change before her eyes around her. Before she could get accustomed to the scenery and make sense of where she was it would all change again, and this repeated over and over again. Even with this confusion of activity the environment was lifeless, hellish even, and in no way appeared as if a soul had ever inhabited its expanses. Or perhaps, had been so effectively erased from existence that it was now barren. When she thought she couldn't take it anymore, she heard voices-no-only one voice. It was saying her name, but the sound was scattered and seemed to bounce along every surface around her, coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

Confused, she tried to shift, to will herself awake and out of such a curious, but horrifying dreamworld. The voice persisted, and she thought she could place who it was, but for some reason the name escaped her. Struggling, she tried to go to the voice but there was no clear direction for her to go. It was all around her, echoing and hard in tone, but persistent, like it wanted something and knew exactly what it was...

"Allison!" Wheeljack's voice shocked her out of her snooze so quickly that she nearly lept up out of the seat, managing to stop herself before cracking her head on the low roof. Gasping, and just a little disoriented and confused, she looked around while blinking the last remnants of sleep from her eyes.

"What is it?" she cried, now more conscious of what was going on around her. It took her another second to register that Wheeljack was no longer driving, but was actually parked. Looking around quickly, they'd stopped at a highway rest stop, which was eerily deserted. The low-roofed buildings were dwarfed by surrounding pines. They were parallel to the highway, sandwiched between it and the sloped mountainside that was thick and lush with evergreen woods. It would have almost been pleasant, if Wheeljack didn't seem so outwardly tensed. "Where are we?"

"I need you to get out, I have to transform..." he said smoothly, and it wouldn't have taken a genius to know by the tone of his voice he was upset about something. When that happened, his voice lacked the bouncing inflection that had always reminded Allison of some kind of pseudo-alien east-coast accent. It was the kind of voice that told her now was not a time to argue with him.

"Wheeljack... is something wrong?" she ventured hesitantly. The frequency in which he seemed to enjoy terrifying her only to not tell her why, was beginning to be alarmingly frustrating. Did he really think her fragile little heart could take so much stress? "Is now really the best time? Won't someone see you?"

The freeway at this point was decidedly much emptier, being an odd time of day and a more remote spot just outside the city limits. In fact, she could see Sealth City looming off into the distance, faintly hazed over with a sheet of grey mist: the sure sign that there was likely rain in the city. Rotating the shoulder she'd been lying on to get feeling back into her joints, Allison moved to crawl back into the front seat. Wheeljack's door was already open and waiting, and as she managed to scramble her way back to the front she could almost feel Wheeljack's anxiety as he subtly assisted in pushing her outside. Practically falling, she caught herself against the cement, brushing her hands against her jeans just as Wheeljack started transforming.

Without a second look at her Wheeljack made a beeline for the trees, quickly disappearing amongst the branches as the packed down dirt and low-lying brush became full, grassy forest floor. Looking around, Allison tried searching for anything around the highway and the restroom that would stand out to her, but it was just as empty as her well of ideas. Realizing that she was alone, and that Wheeljack had expertly lost himself in the trees she turned and huffed after him in an awkward climb up the hill. The ground was far from flat the further she got into the woods, and the stumpy, jagged lumps of dirt and rooting soon turned into thick, rugged mountainside. She found she nearly had to scramble on all fours just to pick her way up after him. She didn't have quite as much leverage as he did, and while his steps were heavier than hers, his gait was much larger, allowing him to take an entire section of hill in minimal steps.

They were going up, but to where, she had no idea. Wheeljack clearly knew where he was going as he continued on with purpose, which Allison found to me mildly irritating that he was leaving her to fumble along after him. She was about to comment to him, until her foot slid on a loose bit of dirt. Swearing loudly, Allison readjusted her grip on the root she'd been clinging too, looking down at the footing below her before she heard Wheeljack stop. He whirled around, weight shifted onto one leg for his own support against the soft ground, and deftly picked her up from the hillside to hold her body against his chest. It wasn't exactly the assistance she really wanted, but once Wheeljack started moving up the hillside again it was all she could do to keep from collapsing against the smooth plates of his lower arm in exhaustion. It wasn't exactly a warm bed, but it would have to do as Allison was now too exerted to actually care. The stitch in her side was starting to make its presence known, and it made being slumped against his arm that much more comfortable considering that now Wheeljack got to do all the work for her.

The ground finally leveled into an open clearing, about the size of a football field from Allison's guess, and it granted a rather lovely view of the mountainsides. A lovely view that she'd have to try and enjoy some other time, because Wheeljack didn't appear to be nearly as enchanted as she was with the scenery. They were higher than she anticipated, the air much cooler and brisk with that distinctive clear feeling of high-altitude. Wheeljack set her down and moved out into the clearing, bringing his hand to his head and pressing a finger against his temple. He was looking around, expression shifting between confusion and annoyance, and Allison felt it was best to watch him patiently from the side. Besides, there was a nice, smooth rock she could lean against to wait for him to do whatever it was he was doing.

Finally Wheeljack dropped his hand and looked at Allison sullenly, who had her hands clasped in her lap. She frowned at him, waiting for the explanation as to what exactly had just transpired.

"I can't get a hold of Ratchet," he admitted, looking frustrated. Allison could feel herself go pale, the blood draining from her face in an instant of subdued panic. She gaped at him.

"What do you mean, you can't get a hold of him? It isn't like you guys go out of service range, right?" she asked nervously, trying to mask it with a joke. Not knowing the details, she had enough sense and experience around them to know that wasn't a good thing. If Wheeljack couldn't contact Ratchet, then what did that mean? Was that just a harmless coincidence, and Ratchet would be off taking a nap somewhere.. or was he not responding because something was keeping him from doing so? Or was it possible he was just pissed off at them for making him go ahead? But, in all of Ratchet's grumpiness, she couldn't picture him resorting to something quite that childish, like, ignoring them for the sake of making a point. But that only left the far less desirable alternative.. that Ratchet was hurt, or even worse, dead. Maybe he was just occupied...

"I mean, he's not responding to his comlink... now, that either means three things... I'm being blocked somehow by Cybertronian interference. Option two is that it's entirely possible he could be out of range, but Ratchet isn't stupid enough to leave the area now. Or there's the final possibility that Ratchet simply can't respond because-"

"Maybe he's just angry we left him behind..." Allison interjected with blind, irrational hope. Wheeljack looked at her pathetically, shaking his head at her in denial. She flushed with embarrassment.

"Ratchet is a big boy, he can take care of himself. Allison I'm afraid this is worse. We must prepare for the possibility that something has happened to Ratchet and we are now alone. Furthermore, we have to assume that what happened to him, will likely be waiting for us,"

Wheeljack suddenly started pacing, walking long stretches through the grass before turning around and retracing his path, fingers worrying at his faceplate. He was muttering to himself incoherently, words that Allison couldn't decipher or understand. The noise was maddening, and Allison shifted her eyes around the clearing, looking for a visual distraction other than a flustered Wheeljack. She knew better than to interrupt him when he was thinking. Her stomach was in nervous knots with worry and guilt. Eventually he stopped.

"Now I have to make a very important decision here, because this very well could be the one that decides what happens to us at this juncture. We have what they want, or at least what likely holds the key information." Wheeljack tapped the portion of his chest where she remembered seeing him store the old weathered journal.

"We don't even know what's inside it yet, or if it's even what we were meant to find..." she started to say, but Wheeljack turned a gaze on her that was so piercing she immediately lost her train of thought. Swallowing hard, she waited for him to speak.

"We have to assume, for it's all we have…" he began, trailing off. "But we must not be hasty, if we have Decepticons waiting for us then we will need to be expecting them, and in turn be unexpected…" Wheeljack started pacing again, deeply immersed in thought.

"You're talking about being unpredictable." Allison watched him pace, his heavy steps making a light boom at every turn, and if that wasn't frustrating enough his constant switch in direction was enough to make anyone feel edgy. "Well I suppose we could paint a giant red target on you, they certainly wouldn't expect that," she said, half sarcastically, and in truth wasn't even expecting Wheeljack to react to her comment at all. What never crossed her mind, was that Wheeljack might be considering just that.

"Precisely!" he cried suddenly, stopping. Allison jerked, turning up her eyes at him in horror.

"What?" she blanched, face incredulous. "I was joking…"

"And therein lies the brilliance… Soundwave will expect us to run, possibly return to our little hide-out which at this point has likely been compromised, as that would have been the first place for Ratchet to go.. No, instead, we will let them come to us.." he was shaking his head absently. "It is time to stop hiding, for it may only result in us now getting cornered… You must never do what your enemy expects you to do, for that is how we will all fail." Wheeljack was looking at her knowingly, although whatever he apparently knew must have been assumed that Allison knew as well. Frankly, she was petrified, and didn't know what to actually say to him.

"Are you saying that we just walk right up to Soundwave and flag Starscream down? That seems a little bit dangerous…" Allison raised an eyebrow at him, trying to mask her fear by appearing obstinate. He shook his massive head at her, appearing to frown.

"Not we Allison, I will draw them out and... end this." he mumbled deeply, cycling air. "Before we separated from Ratchet we were discussing just this. Ratchet insisted that we could not keep hiding... and eventually they would corner us, and at the time I didn't want to think that hiding you away and keeping you safe was not the best course of action," Wheeljack's voice was low, almost to the point of a whisper. "But if Ratchet has been apprehended then it may be time to take his advice. We should stop running, and I will face the threat to you and end it."

Allison felt her lip start to tremble, and she bit down on it to keep her fear from playing across her face like a book. What was he saying? And what did he expect her to do?

"You're talking about turning yourself into a decoy. I don't know if I'm comfortable with you doing that..." she breathed, running her hand across her cheek, rosy with emotion. The prospect of being alone without him, was now very terrifying. She was afraid she no longer knew how to take care of herself, with the very real threat of bodily harm and death so precariously close. What if it didn't work? What if Wheeljack was killed? What if Soundwave was just more clever than Wheeljack was giving him credit for and wasn't fooled, only to hunt her down and kill her anyway? The questions, and everything that could go wrong with this plan were running circles in her head making her dizzy with terror. Just what on Earth did Wheeljack hope to accomplish by turning her loose and running off to wrestle with Decepticons? "And what the hell do you expect me to do, hide and pretend it never happened?" She was feeling her temper flaring again, her face growing hot.

"You still have information that is important Allison," Wheeljack said, coming towards her and kneeling. His eyes were very hard, their glow lost in his fervent need to convey, what very well could be, his final instructions to her. "What you are going to do is run... leave the city. You will go to Detroit, Michigan by any means possible, and as discreetly as possible. You will not fly, and you will not take a train, unless you want Decepticon Seekers or Astrotrain hunting you down. You will do this and once you are in Detroit, you will find the tallest tower, go up to the front desk, and you will ask for a man named Sumdac. You will tell the receptionist that you have been sent by 'Jack'. Do you understand?" His voice was cold, and Allison could feel the sting of detachment in his words, like he was trying to pull away by throwing up verbal walls of indifference. His eyes said only one thing: Don't expect me to be following you.

"Wheeljack... no..." she breathed, taking a step away from him. "I can't let you do this... Jack... I'm not running... I can't-"

"Yes you can Allison. You will use the advantages given to you as a human. You are small, you are light on the move, and you can easily slip by undetected. I am confident you can do this. The longer we linger in hiding, the more likely that we are both killed, and I would rather not take that chance..." he reached out a hand, as if to brush it against her, but she moved away from him angrily.

"No! You can't leave me alone, not like this.. I can't do this anymore Jack I can't r-run from them without y-you," the hysteria was rising, and Allison continued to step back, as if fleeing from Wheeljack would help her escape the sudden panic that was bubbling up her chest like boiling water. Shaking her head, she had no idea what she was doing, walking around in frantic circles with her hands in her hair. "You can't, you can't-"

"Allison I have to!" Now Wheeljack's patience was wearing thin, temper rising in his voice. "If you die, then this will have all been for nothing. Ratchet could very well be dead...It is time to change tactics, for what we were doing before clearly is not working!" He was practically in her face now, and Allison found herself rooted to where she was standing, feeling numb to the air around her, and numb to Wheeljack's stinging rebuke. "This is what I need to do, and if you're under the delusion that I am enjoying this decision then you are sadly mistaken girl." Allison flinched as his words hit her, biting into her resolve and shattering it. She couldn't argue with him. It was impossible. At least, she thought with grim acceptance, she could hate him for it if she was still alive when it was all over. As the bitter defiance washed out of her, she was left with a dull, painful consent she was forced to swallow.

With hands trembling, Allison finally put her hands at her side in defeat. She turned her back to him, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

"And what exactly do you plan on doing?" she said with a shaking voice. She was surprised to see Wheeljack's hand sneak around to her front, blocking her direct line of sight. With a gentle shove, she fell backwards. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to make you realize that this is only because I care deeply for you, and this is what I will do to take care of you," he said, temper sated. His voice had returned to its normal candor. "You can hate me all you like, but it isn't going to change the fact that... we must work together on this."

Allison eventually turned, feeling calmed down enough to face him. He'd pushed her back towards him, so that they were once again face-to-face. He was so close that she could catch the multitude of spinning colors in his gleaming eyes, which were now heavily drooped. It was indescribable.

"If we have no choice, I know there's no getting around it." she frowned, feeling her lip quaver with the trepidation of what was to come. Swallowing, she reached out and rested her hand against his heated face that seemed to be buzzing with tension. Wheeljack nodded slowly in agreement. "Alright then. What exactly are we going to do about this?"

Wheeljack murmured an assent, then began to recite the plan.

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**02/27/2011 - Some edits here, although I do feel Allison's reaction is warranted in this situation. The idea of suddenly being left alone and left to your own devices, while someone else could very well be getting themselves killed for nothing, I feel would instill a mild bit of panic. Especially if it's a plan that comes out of nowhere.**


	26. Allison's Reprieve

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**The next few chapters are going to be intentionally shorter, to break up the scene changes more effectively. I apologize in advance for the abundance of flowery prose in the next few scenes, because I'm trying to describe what both of them are actually feeling. It's sometimes hard to do that and resist the temptation to use interesting words. X3 There also isn't any talking, save for a few sentences, because it's just Allison by herself. **

**Reprieve: A respite from impending punishment, as from execution of a sentence of death.**

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The reflections against the glass were distorted, making the images they presented only slightly accurate projections of reality. Allison had been trying in vain to wipe the grit and stains off the mirror for the last 15 minutes, the activity itself giving her anxiety ridden mind some type of purpose. She wasn't particularly keen on staring at her own reflection, and what it showed. It was rather dark in the dusty, cob-web filled restroom she'd escaped to, and the vision in the mirror was just as dejected as the room that was being occupied. She wasn't even looking at herself at all, more interested in turning the obscene into a sparkling recreation of what it had been. Using the sleeve of her jacket, she rubbed furiously in a circular motion, the glass making a strained squeaking sound with her movements, but no matter how hard she tried it just didn't wipe clean. With a great sigh, she wiped her arms against her already filthy pant leg.

Rinsing her hands in the faucet, the cold water was a brutal shove back into reality. Jerking, she finally caught her distorted, hazed over reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she blinked to try and reawaken some part of herself in them, but the person staring back at her was not the girl that she remembered. The cuts, the bruises, the blotched redness that graced her cheeks, was not the picture of someone who had a controlled grasp on reality. Never had she felt so alone in her life, with a lost sense of purpose and direction to match the feelings of hopelessness that had taken hold on her shaken sense of control. If she tried hard, and shut everything out, Allison could almost imagine that the loneliness she felt inside was really a cold hard truth; nobody existed on this planet but her. It was only Allison on Earth, and the Decepticons that Wheeljack was trying so hard to draw away from her.

Sniffling, she wiped her hand across her face, sighing to herself if only to hear her own voice and remind her that she was still very much alive. Never had it occurred to Allison just how much of a presence Wheeljack was, and his absence again was like an abolishment of all feeling and sensation. She felt numb, her actions since he'd left her alone at the bus depot so separate from her mind that it was almost as if she was merely observing her body go through the motions. She was gliding along, without any real inclination of what she intended to do, or how on Earth she hoped to get to Detroit on the other side of the country. Even less so, getting there undetected and alive.

Once she'd watched Wheeljack drive away with nothing more than a murmured goodbye, she realized just how much she needed him. Not just from the standpoint of a guardian, but more than that. He was her friend, a close, trusted companion that she felt she could confide in and entrust her life too with nothing but the utmost confidence. Now that he was gone and she was now left to her own devices, Allison was left without knowing who she could trust. The inhabitants around her were so foreign to her now, and it was almost like they were now of completely different worlds. She was from the world of the Autobots and Decepticons, where she could entrust every bit of herself in someone who had done so much to prove that he would do anything for her. Everyone else? They were merely stagehands to that world; Tinkering along to keep the physical, shallow plane of existence afloat to the altruism of the alien beings who were working so hard to preserve what was left under the veil of night. Now that she had been so brutally thrown back into that insignificant reality she had once known, it no longer felt like home.

Now was as good a time as any to figure out what she needed to do, so Allison picked up her bag from the floor and threw it over her shoulder with a grunt. The added weight of Doctor Arkeville's journal, and the one thing that was of comfort now, Bean, nestled comfortably amongst the other odds and ends in her now very shabby travel bag. Allison poked her hand in the bag and slid her fingers along Bean's smooth outer casing, feeling her tremble gently against her fingertips. It was the one last piece of that world, of Wheeljack, that she had right now, and possibly would ever have if he never made it back to her. Bean squirmed just slightly, a rustling clatter of tiny metal joints as she wriggled against the heavy cloth of her bag. There was a soft warble from within, and Allison tapped her lightly with her fingers with affection. Bean was likely reacting to her stress, and it was making her just as anxious as Allison was.

It wasn't just that sense of companionship that Allison felt, or that subtle reminder of Wheeljack's presence as if he was still watching her, but Bean had a more practical reason for now being in her company. Wheeljack had said that Bean would be able to alert her to any unusual energy signatures in the area, and that could only mean one thing; Decepticon. At least assuming it was not Soundwave, for he could mask his own signature, and would likely be on her before she even knew she was dead. That was why time, and subtlety was crucial, because Wheeljack would not be there to save her.

Once she was satisfied that Bean was properly comforted, and her own fears sated for the time being, Allison stepped back out of the metal coffin that doubled as a public restroom, and back into the waning sunlight. The concrete platform was nearly deserted, as very few people were waiting to take a bus at this time. She wandered idly between the different boarding bays, running over in her head the only plan of action that she really had. Before she did anything, she was going to try and make her way back to her company building, and try to find anything of use in Arkeville's office before she figured out a way to leave the city for good. She was likely taking a risk, but if she was to be a courier with important information, then she was going to make sure she had everything she needed. Besides, she doubted that the Decepticons were any less likely to catch her outside the city, then they were inside, so what did it really matter where she actually was? Allison knew that if Wheeljack were privy to this, he would stubbornly decry that she leave the city, and everywhere near it immediately. But Wheeljack was not here, and she was on her own as far as she was concerned.

The rest of Wheeljack's plan was sketchy, if not desperate, but she gathered that he was pressed for time and resources to come up with anything more brilliant. He was going to draw the Decepticons out of hiding, with the guise that he was injured and not in a state to care for her. He would lure Soundwave, and if he was feeling social, Starscream, out of whatever hole they were lurking in, and if not destroy them, then at least buy her some time. There was one thing wrong with this, and frankly that erroneous detail was what was driving Allison so sick with terror. Wheeljack was alone, and would be facing off against Soundwave, and perhaps Starscream all on his own. Ratchet was gone. They still hadn't managed to contact him, and his location and state of functioning was unknown. For all they knew Ratchet could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere, and most certainly would not be coming to help them. There was the tiny chance that Ratchet had merely just left the city limits, and subsequently out of Wheeljack's range of communication, perhaps to get help. They couldn't count on that though, so this was where they were: with a very poor plan and a slim chance of success or survival.

The Express bus to take her back into the city finally arrived a few minutes later, and as she was the only person waiting for that bus, she got on in a hurry. There were other passengers already in the seats, and Allison didn't take a second look as she found a quiet spot in the back to sit and brood. Kneading her head in her fingers, she tried to suppress the prickling pain between her eyes. As the bus drove away, she couldn't help but find it so mundane to now be bundled up with other people on public transport. It was almost a disappointment, after having spent so many weeks with Wheeljack that she'd actually completely forgotten what it felt like to do something as simple as ride the bus, or drive her own car even. It was anticlimactic. She looked at the empty chair next to her where she'd placed her bag, and she opened the top just slightly to allow Bean to poke out a claw. She chirped, snaking out one glowing eye to peer at her questioningly, but Allison only pressed a finger to her lips to signal Bean to stay quiet. It would not do any good to reveal she had a little robotic crustacean hiding in her purse. Bean understood this gesture and remained still, staring out at Allison from within her bag with glowing yellow eyes that seemed to share her sadness.

The freeway drive was quick, and soon Allison found herself back within the familiar streets of Sealth. Looking around, she couldn't stop herself from searching for some type of sign that Wheeljack was around, or if anything, a Decepticon sneaking around a corner. But, it was a weekday after all, and while it was early enough in the evening it was still relatively quiet on the streets. She was so lost in her searching of the streets that she almost forgot to get off at the stop outside her office building, which now seemed so unfamiliar to her in the ebbing daylight. It was after hours so it was dark, and only the security would remain, but with her ID cards she had access to the building any time she needed. It would be easy for her to slip inside undetected, but if anything she wouldn't be suspicious.

Ironically the security guard wasn't at the gate when she walked through the parking lot, as she peered in through the little roadside box to see if he was there. It was empty, so she shook her head and kept walking. It wasn't unusual for him to step out for a moment so she dismissed it as coincidence. The front doors were locked by card reader after all, so nobody would be able to get in without the proper clearance or at least without having to force their way in and making a giant scene. Once she swiped her card, she half expected it to deny her access. To her relief it accepted her ID with a soft ping as the light on the pad blinked green, the door handle making a loud click as it unlocked. Heaving open the heavy door into the employee offices she walked in to the startling emptiness of the cubicles beyond.

The long stretch of aisle on the main floor was naturally deserted, minimal lighting casting a soft glow along the hallway that stretched directly in front of her. She walked down the corridor with ease, glancing just briefly at each employee desk on either side as she moved. None of these people were familiar to her, the personal effects and family photos giving her no more indication of who they were and nothing that she cared to know. Allison did not intend to be here long, and she had a purpose in mind.

After heading to the main staircase, her own floor was just as deserted. Allison didn't even bother taking second looks as she weaved among the desks to her office at the very end. It was weird being back here, back to the place where she'd carried on her business from day to day without any knowledge of what was really going on outside. The last time she'd been here, had been the first time she'd made direct contact with Wheeljack, and remembering that made a subtle pang of regret resurface. It hadn't been what she had with him now, clearly, but it had been the beginning; when she hadn't known him and things had been so new and undiscovered. There hadn't been any thoughts as to what would be happening now. It had been optimistic, if not serious of course, but there had still been a fresh innocence that had so effectively been deflowered and torn apart.

Allison paused in the middle of her office, her eyes drawn to the window on her left. Nostalgia called, and she let her body take her to the glass. Peering down, her eyes immediately found her own parking spot, the same spot that Wheeljack had so conspicuously occupied for days before finally revealing himself to her. That had seemed like years ago, and it only made her miss him even more now. Touching the glass with her fingers, she sighed, closing her eyes against the fresh rise of tears as she remembered so clearly standing in the very same spot looking down at him. While they'd only been in each other's company for mere months, it really did feel like lifetimes.

Finally Allison forced herself away from the window and to her intended destination: Arkeville's office, and if she could find anything of use, it would be in there. She keyed in the same combination that had been the number of the safety deposit box, and felt the door give as the lock slid open. It was too dark in this particular room for her to see, so rather than opening the blinds against the far wall to let the light in, she decided to be as minimal as possible and flicked on the small lamp on top of his desk. It provided minimal light, but enough for her to see most of the entire room.

Allison hadn't been in his office in a long time, but it didn't look much different from the last time she'd been there. It was still untidy, stacks of papers and various bits of computer equipment strewn across every available surface and shelf imaginable. The dark wooden walls were covered with blueprints and different print-outs, either taped or tacked on with pins. The small table against the far end near a raised counter still had a coffee cup sitting there like someone had used it and just forgotten about it. There was a small indoor plant near the window that was wilted with neglect and lack of water, its large leaves drooping sadly.

The main desk itself was cluttered to the point of being completely useless. Papers and various other folders of varying importance littered the desk top and the floor space around her, the garbage bin directly beneath overflowing with crumpled bundles of discarded documents. Allison discarded it all in an untidy pile on the ground, realizing that Arkeville certainly wasn't going to be back any time soon to need any sort of organization. It clearly hadn't been an issue before, so after she was satisfied with the clean workspace she now had, she sat down on the chair and pulled open her bag.

"Come on Bean, time to stretch your legs..." she murmured, and Bean jumped onto the desk top and looked around, before hopping down onto the floor. She sat on the ground, looking up at Allison like a dog expecting a treat. Allison allowed herself to smile a little, and swiveled the chair around to look at Bean, hands on her lap. "Maybe you can help... um... can you scan the language on the papers and look for.. I don't know, key words or something?" she ventured, not actually expecting much of a response, but was surprised to hear Bean warble in the affirmative, waving a spider-like claw in her direction. "Okay then... can you rifle through those papers there.. and I guess anything you find, and look for anything that mentions me - no - That's too broad. I think you better look for anything that mentions... Autobot? Um... Wheeljack? Or... maybe, Sumdac?"

Truthfully she had no idea what they were looking for, so it was a long shot. She remembered Wheeljack mention that as the name of someone she needed to contact, so it seemed like a reasonable place to start. Bean chirped, and immediately began clawing at all the little papers on the ground, stabbing them with her front pincer before scanning them with a small beam of light. Allison was rather transfixed by the display for a few minutes, before she realized she had her own searching to do.

Turning back to her bag, she hauled the faded journal out and onto the desk top. Little flurries of dust tickled her nose as she opened it up, the worn pages crackling underneath her fingers. It would have been disheartening to learn that this book was useless, and given that the first few pages were irrelevant as far as she could tell on first scan, her optimism was wearing very thin. It had taken perhaps ten pages of her scanning the nearly indecipherable scrawl to finally spot a word that stood out to her, space, and with a swell of internal joy and a sense of accomplishment, she stopped and started on the page from the top. It was a dated entry, old, but the cryptic first sentence told her exactly what she needed to know: that this was where to begin.

It was on this day that I uncovered during my scanning something most extraordinary in the Heavens, that I felt our benevolent visitors would need to be immediately alerted to such a frightening anomaly...

And it was from this point that Allison began to read.

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**What's Wheeljack up to?**


	27. The Poet

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
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It was no mistake that Wheeljack purposely wasted no time in saying goodbye; not a lapse in concentration or just simple forgetfulness. On the contrary it was largely intentional that he left with little more than a murmured departing note. Drawing out farewells was not something that Wheeljack had ever been particularly good at, and even more so to someone he was so emotionally attached to. The somewhat confused, yet painful look on her face as she'd nodded her own goodbye had been difficult enough, and it would only be more time wasted should they both linger. He was trying very hard to detach himself from any thought or worry over Allison, because in the end that would only distract him from the job at hand. And if there were distractions, that would lead to failure.

Driving away and leaving Allison at the public transportation depot had been difficult enough without the added weight of a grief-filled goodbye, and it would have only been astronomically worse to acknowledge the very real finality they both could be facing. So instead Wheeljack had simply left and had not looked back, or scanned back, doing his best to block Allison completely from his sensory range and processor core lest he lose his nerve and sentence them both to death. It had been difficult, but his logical cores had finally relented and taken control, grinding to a halt any uprisings of protest from within his Spark chamber. So his fearlessness had not left him, that was hopeful, but at the same time Wheeljack felt that steadfast determination to actually face danger for the common good wavering in favor of something much more selfish: his own emotional needs, but first and foremost Allison's life.

Never in his very long life had Wheeljack felt so conflicted with two very distinctive things: the mission at hand, and the insatiable tug at his Spark to do what it compelled, and that was to forget all sense of duty and simply be with Allison. But, the Decepticons were coming for her, or for the two of them, and at this point it no longer mattered.

At the same time Allison still was the mission. Her protection and the integrity of the information they so desperately needed to preserve had become one, and perhaps this was what was making Wheeljack feel so ill at ease. His Spark told him, urged him to both be with her, yet protect her at the same time, but they were at a crossroads where those two things could not be one and the same.

Ratchet had warned him of this, but he'd stubbornly refused to believe the situation would reach this point, and that he could protect Allison from anything. It was with a certain amount of bitterness that he had to acknowledge Ratchet was right. A small voice from the center of Wheeljack's cynicism said that, at the very least, Ratchet would not have the chance to tell him he'd told him so. That small voice was drowned out though by the overwhelming feeling of remorse over that same fact. Had he a choice, he'd much rather survive the old medic's grievances than endure the empty feeling that accentuated his absence. He'd tried many more times, over and over again to hail Ratchet on the com, but it was just as eerily silent and empty as it had been during those long weeks spent alone and in disrepair. Despondently he'd finally given up, realizing with grim acceptance that whatever happened now, Ratchet would either share in the outcome, or not be alive to experience the horrible fate that may follow should the Decepticons get a hold of what it was they so desperately craved.

The truth was, there was very little Wheeljack could do to protect Allison from whatever was out there. Most Autobots had at some point sustained a fair amount of damage in the war. Some had even lost parts. Most of these were in some way repairable or even replaceable. Allison's fragile physique was somewhat less capable of enduring that kind of damage, nor was her mental state compatible with the emotional strain she was evidently undergoing. Sooner or later she was going to break, and even Wheeljack would be unable to apply any quick fixes. There was in retrospect nowhere for her to hide. The Decepticons would blow up, incinerate, demolish or in some other way obliterate any structure she hid in. They'd rip apart any Autobots protecting her. They would annihilate hundreds, nigh, thousands just to get to her and what she had if they needed to without even batting an eye. There was only so much Wheeljack could do to help her, and only one thing to keep her alive. He had to abandon her. He had to lure them out in to the open and draw them away from her.

While he did not share it with Allison, it was clear from the faint denial and understanding in her eyes that she knew what this meant: He would most likely not survive the coming duel with Soundwave, and possibly Starscream with only himself and his own wits about him. One of them alone was a possibility, but as both of them were more than worthy opponents, and Wheeljack had never been the most adept Autobot in battle when it came to skill and strength, it was necessary to keep the level of optimism very, very low.

So this is where Wheeljack stood, at this juncture with a very feeble plan and a poor hope for success as he slid to a stop just outside an abandoned gasoline refinery near the outskirts of town. He let all sound from the engines die as he idled quietly, quickly scanning the area for any significant organic presence and was satisfied with the result that there was not a soul around. This area, while deserted, was one he'd taken great care to be sure it was off-limits to the general population so as to not have any unwelcome disruptions when the time came. He'd also been careful to appear in near hysterics en route, throwing out any and every manner of distress signals into the open air on the level of desperation that would only come from a Cybertronian in dire need of medical assistance. He hoped, that whoever would be listening to the airwaves, hidden from the more primitive human perception, would take the bait and act on it.

All Wheeljack could do was hope that it was not too late, and if he could not beat them, he could at least buy Allison time enough to get a head start. She had so far proven to be intelligent, so he was confident that she was smart enough to figure something out in order to stay at least one-step ahead. Once she made it to Detroit, she would be in Autobot territory and thus in safe hands, but getting there was the dangerous part. If there was a chance to give her any sort of advantage, no matter how small, then he had to take it.

Wheeljack knew he had to be on high alert, for it was not a secret that Soundwave could not be found with only scanning sweeps alone. Starscream was a different matter, and generally in his carelessness threw around his Decepticon signature for anyone to pick up on regardless of whether or not they cared. Soundwave however, was a master of silence, and could stay hidden as long as he so desired. If he had any hope of overpowering the much more massive Decepticon, he would have to stay on guard, and ideally be the first to strike. So far, he sensed no weird energy disruptions or readings on his internal scans, but that meant relatively little.

A portion of the refinery was made up of a wide, empty warehouse that ran the length of about a human acre. Taking care to be as silent as possible, he reversed his vehicular mode into the relative damp, darkness of the building which provided limited cover. At least in regards to immediate visual range he would be obscured from view, but since he wanted to be found, he resumed the task of throwing out scattered distress calls in staggered, disjointed bursts into any open frequency he could find. The chaotic disorganization would appear to an outsider, to be acts of not only panic, but a result of someone who was not in the right processor state to be thinking rationally. This nervous mass of communication spam was starting to get even on his nerves, and as he quietly transformed into a readied crouch he grumbled irritably. If a Decepticon was going to answer, they had better make it snappy.

Seconds ticked away, stretching into minutes of waiting that tested Wheeljack's already frayed patience as he sat silently, waiting in the darkness for any sort of hint on his radar of another Cybertronian. At this point he'd have settled on even Ratchet for company, because the stark silence after having so much social contact with his bonded was mind-numbing. But he kept at it, waiting in the soundless darkness for some kind of activity.

His internal systems quavered in one, shocking spasm of alertness that made Wheeljack freeze. He couldn't pick out any decipherable signatures on his internal radar, but something was in the air that had changed the environment on a level he could notice. With a blazing fast scan, he surveyed the area for any environmental reason for the disturbance, but found no tangible reason for the change. He also scanned the sky above, but there was no hint of Starscream, or any aircraft for that matter, in the vicinity for miles. Whatever it was, it was on the ground, and a moment later after narrowing his concentration he noticed a distinct anomaly that was certainly not a natural occurrence.

There was a disjointed mass of energy lurking around the refinery to the east, and while it was not marked as a sentient presence, he knew it could only be one thing. Only one Cybertronian could cause that degree of ordered, electrical chaos like pulses of mutating energy fields. It was Soundwave, and he was prowling the grounds like a hungry animal, unable to resist the pull of a wounded Autobot in the throes of a mental processor fit.

With as much stealth as Wheeljack could muster, he prepared himself for attack. With a quick rotation of his dorsal tension reducers, he readied his plasma sidearm with a simmering hum of energy. Soundwave was near, and while he could not feel the signature directly, he could follow the phonic agitation as a representation of his "ballpark" location. t was with a sense of puzzlement, and sheer dumb luck that Wheeljack had been able to catch it at all, and with a shudder in his circuits he knew that Soundwave's carelessness could have only meant he was thirsty for blood.

Crouching down low, Wheeljack tapped into a rarely used node of stored energy from behind his optic sensors. Depressing a small plating of armor on his forehead with his fingers, he felt a snarled up bundle of pooled Energon briefly warm the circuitry within, before releasing in a controlled burst of twin pointed lights from his optics onto the ground outside. Gathering memory from his processors, he constructed a crude, but believable representation of none other than Allison, which shimmered and rippled along its form before finally smoothing out into what outwardly appeared to be a solid representation of the human girl.

The projection beams receded back into his optics, and the Energon flow returned to equilibrium as he powered the system down. He was taking a chance. His hologram generator had long ago been corrupted by the damage Starscream had done to his face, having spliced the delicate nerve circuits needed to carry the necessary protocols to activate it. It worked, but unreliably, so Wheeljack had rarely used it since. Now however, if he could get enough out of it to fool Soundwave, he might just be more considerate of asking Ratchet to repair it after all. That would be of course, if they all made it out of this alive.

The image, while largely imperfect, would be sufficient enough at a glance to pass for Allison, and Wheeljack was counting on Soundwave's lust for conquest to spur him to be impulsive and attack before making any thoughtful decisions. For one thing it glowed slightly, and every now and then a garbled ripple would pass through it like a visual glitch on a movie reel. It also had no real internal intelligence or even any awareness for that matter, and would only move or react in a way he directed it to. That could all easily be overlooked by someone who was driven enough to attack without a thorough scan in order to separate what might be a ruse from reality.

In the next instant, as Wheeljack just barely finished retracting the projection beams, there was an explosion of angry noise and violent movement directly from his left outside the building. The hologram of Allison of course, did not react, but merely stood mournfully in place, seemingly oblivious to the peril around it. Wheeljack tensed as he felt as much as heard Soundwave move in close with thundering steps, alarmingly fast like an incoming steam engine. His massive body barreled past the wide open doorway in a cobalt blur, coming in low and running right over and through the hologram in what appeared to be an attempt to grab it. There was an angry, synthesized howl as the hologram merely stretched and separated while its space was invaded, snapping back into place as Soundwave's momentum carried him far past the opening where Wheeljack lay in waiting. That was the only leeway he needed and would likely get.

With a furious roar of his own, Wheeljack lunged forward without bothering to duck through the doorway, blasting through the rusted metal sheets and supports of the structure to meet his opponent. The building gave easily, exploding outward as his own supreme mass forced through, and he came out firing several shots in rapid succession at the Decepticon who was trying desperately to stop and right himself.

Soundwave recovered quickly and turned, spinning around with his own sidearm at the ready. He returned fire, the magenta blasts of light hitting the ground in harmless sprays of smoking dirt and rock as Wheeljack barely avoided the fire. He brought his own weapon around to return fire, running towards Soundwave's squared body with the full megaton force of his own momentum. While Soundwave was big, he was also much faster than he looked, and he immediately stopped Wheeljack's attack as they locked hands. Wheeljack could feel the gears and motor inducers in his joints groan with the strain as they used their strength to push off one another, both hoping to bring the other down with sheer brute force. Soundwave, always the controlled, impassive type, appeared to be in no physical discomfort as Wheeljack tried to dig his stance into the ground to gain leverage. But ever so slowly, Soundwave was gaining the advantage, and Wheeljack could feel his back struts bending back as his strength succumbed to Soundwave's superior size.

"So Deceptiscum…" Wheeljack grunted, tightening his jaw with the effort to stay upright. "I see you've been… careless…" he was hoping to distract Soundwave with idle conversation, but the Decepticon had never been the chatty type. "Are you… just getting old… or is that lack of exercise finally – oomph – catching up to you?" he quipped, feeling even more enraged as Soundwave's passive glare did not waver.

"Negative Autobot. Physical capabilities at optimum capacity. Odds of subduing Autobot weakling nintey-six percent. Priority One: Elimination." Soundwave's atonal, synthesized voice reverberated loud between them, and Wheeljack internally withdrew at the cold heartlessness behind each syllable. He wondered if the Decepticon even had a Spark anymore, having disconnected his emotional centers eons ago…

"Never one for a sense of humor, huh?" Wheeljack growled in retort. There was finally an opening as Soundwave had to step to readjust his balance. Wheeljack kicked forward, landing a blow on Soundwave's knee joint sending the Decepticon to the ground. The sudden release in force against Wheeljack's arms nearly sent him forward over Soundwave and onto his own face. Startled, there was an angry flurry of Cybertronian noise as Soundwave fell, sprawling backwards as Wheeljack's knee connected with his jaw for another blow. There was a thunderous crunch as Soundwave reeled, the extra force bringing Wheeljack to his own knees unable to correct his center of balance in time. Their hands were still locked, and Soundwave used Wheeljack's lack of balance to throw the Autobot around and smash him into the ground.

Stunned, Wheeljack took a mere nanosecond to readjust, rolling out of the way in time to dodge four more shots from Soundwave's weapon. Ducking behind a cluster of oak trees, Wheeljack surged back out firing again. Some of the shots went wide and wizzed past the Decepticon as he easily dodged to avoid the hits, but the final two hit the mark squarely in the chest, causing Soundwave to stumble backwards. Unrelenting, he glared at the Autobot with a calculating gaze from behind searing red optics, running forward to meet Wheeljack straight on. Drowning out any internal instincts for self-preservation, Wheeljack smashed into his opponent, grappling him in a vice-like grip to knock him off his feet. He felt pieces of his armor crack and bend, groaning with impact as they hit each other and crashed to the ground, the Decepticon effectively pinned below him. This was the only opportunity he would have, and with combined fists he connected with Soundwave's face again and again, now in desperate need to beat the Decepticon into emergency stasis and submission.

Soundwave took the hits without struggle, seemingly indifferent to the violence inflicted upon him as the armor of his helmet began to break and crack. Wheeljack had lost all sense of control, fueled now by only the searing range in his Spark that was burning holes into his chest. The monster had threatened him, and had threatened Allison, and he was going to pay.

Suddenly out of nowhere Soundwave managed to bring up his fist, cracking Wheeljack hard across the right portion of his face. With a startled cry, Wheeljack fell as a sudden shock of pain momentarily blacked out his right optic, his panel cracking underneath Soundwave's fist. There was an urgent shrill of internal alarms as his optic sensors blinked in and out, his vision and depth perception crippled as repair systems initialized and blinked hazard warnings across his visual field. He could feel and see something sparking out of what remaining sight he had, his speech panel blinking erratically in response to the alarms that were urging him to now retreat and repair. Various cracks and dents in his armor were leaking streams of Energon, burning the tactile sensors against his frame. Wheeljack tried in vain to ignore this handicap and stood awkwardly, as fast as he physically could. Soundwave had gotten in a lucky hit, and he wasn't finished.

Before Wheeljack could finish standing Soundwave was up and on him in an instant, wrapping a massive hand around the tender circuitry in his throat. His vents hissed erratically with the forced push of air. Although Cybertronians had no need to breath, there were too many fragile, essential components running from their brain down to the Spark chamber. If Soundwave crushed his central nerve conductor his Spark would be extinguished, and it would be over.

But with all the internal alarms blaring in his processor, Wheeljack was having a very hard time focusing enough to try and fight the Decepticon off. His mind was scattering around bits of random, incoherent memories and pieces of information as he panicked to regain control of his motor functions. With one optic still deactivated, the other partially shuttered against the caked Energon that had splashed across his face plates, his visual acuity was far less than ideal. The only things that were making sense were the memories of Allison that chained together in rapid, disjointed images like a frantically edited home video. He could see her, but he could not speak to her, or touch her. The only thing he could do was hope that she could make it far enough away by the time he was deactivated to avoid sharing his inevitable fate.

Soundwave's grip tightened against the wiring in his neck eagerly searching for the bundle of circuitry that would end his life. The expression on the Decepticons face did not change. There were no gloating words of victory. There was no visual acceptance are acknowledgment of the consequences that would follow what he was about to do. Soundwave seemingly just did not care, his passive indifference to the murder he was about to commit would accompany Wheeljack down. He was about to succumb to his fate, dying on only the memories of the human he was losing his life to protect. He was ready to die. He'd lived for generations. If this was the purpose he was to join the Well of All Sparks for, then it was an admirable one.

There was an Earth saying that when you're dying, your life flashes before your eyes. Wheeljack's life was to too long and too vast to really be encapsulated in mere moments. However, the past few months that he'd spent with Allison, and the reason he was here in the first place, flooded his mind. Her voice reverberated inside him in a crescendo of collected vocalized history. Everything she had ever said to him at any one point screamed out to be heard over each other, each vying for dominance. One shouted the loudest; one of the very first thing she ever said to him.

You have a rocket on your shoulder…

The sudden understanding and awareness rippled through every inch of his body like a violent electrical shock. His mind went deathly quiet as her words calmly whispered their message in his auditory sensors.

You have a rocket on your shoulder…

"I do..." Wheeljack murmured.

For a moment, Soundwave hesitated. "Sentence termination. Erroneous statement. Confirm."

It was what he needed to do, his only chance… Indeed, he had a rocket on his shoulder. And frankly he had no real idea what would happen once it exploded. If the proximity didn't blow them both to bits, at least he hoped, it would cripple the Decepticon beyond saving. Allison would have one less reason to look over her shoulder.

There was no way to tell if Soundwave knew what he was thinking. There was no visual reaction on his face, but there was a tightening of his grip on Wheeljack's throat that convinced him, if he had to act it needed to be now. It wasn't inherently a part of him. The rocket had been a personal addition, and as such, had to be activated manually. He didn't know how he managed to muster the strength to move, but slowly, he moved his arm up to the barrel of the weapon on his shoulder. This threat was unmistakable, and Soundwave grabbed the base of the weapon in an attempt to crush it beneath his fingers. There was definite pain as its base bent and crumpled beneath the Decepticon's grip, forcefully being peeled from his body as it shredded the naturally occurring armor plates beneath. Wheeljack ignored the pain, searching with his fingers and finally locating the hidden trigger switch...

And fired.

**O_o**


	28. The Intervention

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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Allison wasn't sure how much time had passed since she'd begun reading. The sky had gotten darker as the sun finally sunk underneath the horizon. It couldn't have been more than an hour, but it had felt like forever. Every now and then, Bean would scuttle over to tug at her pant leg, urgently pointing at a paper or two. Allison would pick them up and glance at them, before tucking them away into a pile underneath the journal. She'd look at them later, but she'd become so engrossed with the reading she wanted to continue.

It was actually rather hard to make sense of most of the information. She'd discarded the first few pages rather quickly, having been unable to make anything from the incoherent scrawl. There were various calculations shoved between sentences, making it difficult to follow along whatever train of thought the doctor had tried to transcribe. Whenever he had just started making some sort of sense, he suddenly shot off into a tangent that couldn't have been farther from the original topic. Sometimes the branching sentences broke into a series of numbers, making things even harder to grasp. She got the impression that the majority of information the doctor was collecting was all related to outer space, with an emphasis on certain astrological signs and star patterns that she didn't recognise. It appeared as if he'd been looking for something, and had taken large pieces of the sky and separated them into blocks to be scrutinized. He'd definitely found something, but what that was exactly wasn't clear. In some weird way it reminded her of Wheeljack.

Some of the cryptic ravings also came across as being severely delusional. Towards the end of her readings, Arkeville had begun to mention something called the Voice, which was generally accompanied by the mention of a Swinging Pendulum device. Allison gathered, this referred to some kind of machine, but so far she hadn't gotten anything more specific from that. Whether or not it was what they were meant to find, or if it would lead to what they were meant to find, was still unclear. She'd have to keep reading.

Bean made an odd squeaking noise causing Allison to look up. She was chittering nervously on the other side of the office, the yellowish glow of her eyes appearing to hang in the air like two lightning bugs floating in place. Allison squinted her eyes to try and see what Bean was doing, but it looked like she was doing nothing more than just staring back. Allison cleared her throat intending to say something, when out of nowhere there was a violent and sudden pulsating on the desk to her right. Nearly leaping out her chair, Allison yelped as she gripped the arms of the seat so tight she felt the blood rush out of her fingers. I seriously need to get a grip on myself... she thought, but wondered if it was possible to be anything less than tightly stung. Wheeljack was gone, and she may or may not be dead in the near future. Not exactly things that would warrant an even temper and cool head.

A second later the buzzing was accompanied by a square block of light from a spot on the desk, and Allison relaxed as she realized it was only her cell phone. She'd placed it on the desk before she'd begun to read, with dim hope that maybe Wheeljack would try to contact her or send her some kind of sign that he was alright. She knew he wouldn't but she could still allow herself that luxury of optimism.

Snatching her phone, she looked at the caller ID and saw a familiar string of random numbers, the same as what her phone had displayed when it was Wheeljack trying to call her. With a rush of joy and reignited hope, she answered,

"Hello? Wheeljack?"

Silence.

Pausing, she waited in the dark for some kind of response, but heard only dead air. It was an empty quiet that was unnerving and irritating at the same time. It certainly had to be him. Who else could it have been? But there was a certain unease to it that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It felt like somehow, there were eyes in the phone and they were watching her. She shivered, her ears starting to distort the faint buzzing of the emptiness to create phantoms out of nothing.

And with that thought, completely rattled, she disconnected the call, quickly putting her phone back into her bag. Now suddenly very alert and mildly fretful, Allison looked around quickly. She hurried over to the window on impulse and gently separated two of the blinds to peer outside. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary, and the portion of the parking garage she could see was empty. But she couldn't shake the feeling off that it was now, definitely time to go.

Bean was snooping around one of the bookshelves noisily, but Allison let her continue on as she quickly snatched up the old journal and the papers she'd collected, shoving them in her bag. Some of the papers crumpled, but now was not the time to care about how pretty the documents looked later on. Bean started squeaking erratically breaking the silence, and the next second found Allison trying to pull the very excited little robot off her leg. Bean was tugging on her leg, clawing at the edge of her boot as if trying to climb up onto her thigh.

"What is it?" she whispered, peering down at the little robot, that for whatever reason seemed to want nothing more than to be held. Kneeling Allison brought herself down closer to Bean's level, frowning a little at the exorbitant mess the creature had made. There were papers strewn about all over the floor. Allison had never heard anything, but the slowly dying plant at some point had been knocked over, spilling dried pods of caked earth onto the carpet. Allison leaned over, and perhaps due to her own compulsiveness, began to pick up the piles of dirt wanting to not make things too obvious that some kind of chaos had gone through the room. Bean was hovering around her hands, which was just, a little bit irritating.

Allison was about to shoo Bean away with a word of scolding, but was stopped short by a thunderous crash from somewhere upstairs on the building's server level. Allison gasped, her entire body freezing instinctively as the room settled to normal. Little flurries of dust and debris fell from the ceiling, dislodged from the sudden physical anomaly, and she could feel the minuscule puffs tickling her nose as they whirled about in the air like dust clouds. Her eyes looking up, she could see the light fixture swaying in the air, moved along by some unseen force. As soon as her mind got a better hold on itself, she was able to begin processing what had happened. That distinctive tremor, had felt so familiar... like...

Then all at once Bean started shrieking.

It was high pitched and unnatural, like the shrill scream of an electrical fire out of control. Trying in vain to cover her ears to save herself from becoming deaf, it was hard to focus over all the noise and actually comprehend what was happening. Her own cry of panic was added to the confusion as there was a second thunderous crunch resonated from above, then a third. Allison lifted herself off the ground and stumbled back, only half prepared for something to come crashing through. Bean was a wild distraction as she clawed desperately up her leg, swinging around her back and cowering beneath her hair at the nape of her neck. Allison tried to ignore Bean's claws digging into her skin, more intent on trying to process the sounds from above and figure out where and what it was coming from. She slowly stepped back towards the desk, keeping her eyes on the ceiling while mentally trying to prepare herself for what was clearly waiting for her. It had to be a Decepticon.

My phone.

It all fell into place. She'd answered her phone. They'd been able to track her. That had been fast. There had to be no other explanation for the blank caller ID and dead air.

The wash of defeat and stupidity crashed onto her like a torrential wave of guilt. She'd been duped. Just like Wheeljack had called it "embarrassingly easy" to pinpoint her phone's frequency, it was clearly just as simple for a Decepticon to have been able to hunt her down with it. Barely a few hours into their separation, and already Allison had blown it. The nagging fury over her own idiocy gnawed at her anxiously. What could she do now? She had to run. There was no other option. But the fear of running out into the open and potentially meeting whatever was up there face to face was not a tempting option. Bean's incessant screaming had likely given her actual position away. She was torn between staying put and bolting for the security office, unsure of what the safest and wisest course of action was.

The decision was quickly made for her as the ceiling exploded downward as something massive came crashing through. It looked like a squared metal barbel, thick and brutal looking as it hung in the air for a moment before receded back into the ceiling. It managed to pull with it large chunks of plaster and wood, tearing off large bits of the ceiling as it was forcefully pulled back up to its source. Without hesitating Allison threw herself backwards to avoid the rain of sharp wooden slivers and ceiling pieces, toppling over the desk onto the ground below. She cried out roughly in pain as she fell against Bean on her back, the claws slicing into her skin painful enough that she knew it drew blood. There was another shuddering crunch as a second blow came through the roof, accompanied by what she could only describe as a childish cackling from above.

Allison scrambled to her feet, ignoring the searing pain in her back from the needle-points of Bean's claws. She ran to the door, screaming as a momentous force of exploding drywall and wood threw her back against the wall, billows of dust and debris stinging her eyes and obscuring her vision of the room. Bean was shrieking in her ear, the desperate urgency in her alarms doing the exact opposite of what it was intended to do as Allison found herself unable to run. She saw movement in the room, but had to force her terrified body to the door in a stumbled motion. Her sick curiosity kept her from throwing the door open and taking off. As soon as her hand touched the door handle she felt the malevolent presence blossom to a full, terrifying shape of tangible darkness, crescendoing into two glowing points of red light that turned to face her, giggling.

"You's got two choices human. You can come quietly like a good little pet, or I can beats ya to the ground first, whaddaya say?"

Allison couldn't stop herself from pausing, with a start born from complete disbelief. This was perhaps the most unexpected thing to hear out of all the possibilities her mind had come up with to associate with the Decepticons. To hear such a childish, cocky voice from something she'd come to interpret as nothing but cold, calculating violence, was making her hesitate for reasons she didn't know. It almost made the monster seem, less threatening, but it was a dangerous attitude to take and she knew it. She couldn't actually see the the Decepticon fully in the light, but could see the dark shapes of his massive, blocky body. He was hunched over, clearly larger than the roof of the room allowed, but he was curiously much smaller than the other Decepticons she'd come into contact with. That brought up a memory of something Ratchet and Wheeljack had told her... small Decepticons...

Soundwave.

"Don't I get a third option?" she hazarded, trying to buy herself some time in the form of a distraction as she attempted to edge the door open for an escape. The Decepticon was leering at her viciously, the crimson glow of his eyes illuminating a maniacal grin. The light from the lamp revealed a large, wide chest, strong shoulders and arms that were much longer than they should have been. Despite the relative size of his upper body he actually appeared to be much slimmer than what she would have expected from seeing Soundwave. He was a muddy, bluish color offset with a deep charcoal grey on the upper arms and legs. She couldn't see him all that well, but it was enough to be terrifying.

"Not unless you wants me to do both at the same time," he chuckled, the pleasant gesture sounding so odd coming from someone wearing the insignia he did.

"I'll pass."

"You don't got a choice!" He took a step forward, and Allison felt the ground tremble and creak beneath his weight. Jerking, her hand tightened on the handle, twisting it as she blurted,

"You're Rumble." It was only an assumption, but judging by what could only be massive piledrivers instead of hands it was an educated guess. He seemed to swell with pride, leaning back.

"One and the same, and I'm about ta rock ya too!" he snarled viciously, lunging at her with arms swinging spaztically like a cyclone. Allison screamed, plowing through the door and throwing her body back out into the office as she felt the walls around her shatter with the force of Rumble's barbel arms. Allison could barely make three sprinting steps before a metallic filing cabinet went flying across the room, shattering a window. Paperwork and rubble flew everywhere, and a light came loose from the ceiling, spinning madly and causing shadows to dance everywhere. Allison tried to dodge it as it spun past her head, running past her own desk and into the rows of cubicles beyond. She stopped and risked a look back, just in time to see Rumble fill the newly created whole that had once been her boss's door and adjoining wall. He reached up and flicked away a bit of loose plaster with a newly transformed hand. She couldn't stop looking at his rather large hands, and tried hard to not imagine such strong looking fingers crushing her skull...

"How can you organics live in such flimsy structures?" His vision focused on where Allison was backed up against a cubicle wall, and with a grin his shoulders made a weird, jerking motion, grinding as they transformed again into the hammer-like attachments she'd seen when he first dropped in. "Which I guess is a good thing. For me anyway." He lunged forward, bringing both his arms down against the floor. Allison felt the entire building tremble, the remaining windows rattled against their frames as she realized with barely registered horror what he was doing.

There was an ear-splitting crack as she felt a portion of the floor give way beneath her, sinking down as she lost her balance and started to fall. The floor opened up beneath her, and she found herself hurtling to the level below, followed dangerously close by desks, chairs and other objects that had been caught up in the maelstrom. Allison slammed down on her side, and her eyes widened when a corner of an ornate, wooden desk crashed into the space mere inches from her head, throwing books and writing materials over her.

There was a second, much more massive crash as Rumble jumped down to her level, and was running over to her before she even had time to turn around. He shoved aside the desk that had fallen with a swift swat of his fist, making a grab for her with a whoop of triumph. She managed to avoid his grasp and rolled, getting up and making a run for a nearby door. Allison wasn't fast enough, and her entire body filled with searing pain as something hard and metallic smashed into her right side, sweeping her straight through the glass walls of an intact, empty conference room. Bean dislodged from her back with a shriek and went skipping along the large table, her smaller weight allowing her body to be carried forward into the window that led two floors below.

Allison's greater weight stopped her inertia as she slide along the surface of the conference table, groaning as newly created bruises sent lances of pain up and down her side. Through watery eyes she gazed back at the shattered remains of the window where Bean had gone through, whimpering with the realization that she was all alone, and she stood no chance.

Allison cried out when her body was yanked back, Rumble grabbing her ankle and dragging her back across the table towards him. With a resurgence of energy, she ignored the pain, kicking with her feet and managing to land a blow square into Rumble's face. He reeled back with his hands to his head, only momentarily stunned as Allison picked her body up and made an attempt to dart past him. She was thrown back against the desk as a massive hand wrapped around her face, forcing her back against the table and into submission. She kicked at him, trying to regain her senses and get his smothering hand off of her face, because she was finding it hard to breath.

"Oh little human," Rumble huffed. "Ya know if ya run I'm only gonna chase ya, and then I'll be forced to beat ya... and Soundwave would rather have ya intact." Her picked her up by her face, quickly swinging her around and transferring his grip from her head to her left shoulder. With a staggered cry of pain, she continued her vain attempts to break free as Rumble began dragging her towards the shattered window, his massive fingers digging into the pits of her arms. As she struggled, Allison only had a few thoughts running through her head as the crippling pain in her shoulder kept her lucid and in a state of panic. He's not killing me... He's taking me... to Soundwave... I... can't...

Something on the ground glimmered and it caught Allison's eye. She managed an awkward swing of her body, which to Rumble only appeared to be another flail of her puny organic limbs, and grabbed it with her free hand. It was a large shard of glass. She knew it would do nothing to his metallic armor, but they were almost at the window, and despite whatever perceptions about her resilience Rumble might have, she doubted she'd survive the drop. Now it was only the instincts to survive that were fueling her, driving the motions of her body beyond her immediate comprehension and into action before she really knew what she was doing.

Her eyes searched desperately for any sort of weak point. Her frightened gaze locked onto a crack between Rumble's hand and lower arm, where she could just faintly see the colors of coiled, vulnerable wiring. With her last bits of strength Allison brought her hand around, using his grip on her shoulder as a leverage point to gain push. The edges of the glass dug deep into her hand as she managed to hit her mark, her guesses blessedly being true as she felt and heard something pop. Rumble jerked with a spasm of pain, emitting a bone-chilling electronic scream as he relinquished his grip on her arm. Allison hit the floor, and she was up the next instant with barely a moment of recovery, only taking a second long enough to see that Rumble was flailing around with his wrist cradled against him. He was shrieking something fierce, cursing and spitting in wordless growls of rage. There was a glowing, pinkish fluid dripping into pools on the ground, which could only mean that she'd actually managed to hurt the Decepticon. As Allison turned to run out of the conference room she held her own damaged hand against her chest to try and staunch the bleeding, but even without looking she knew the wound was too deep to be anything but a big problem.

Ignoring it, Allison ran out into the hallway, not even aware of where she intended to go, but only knew with certainty that she had to at least try and get out of the building. Her steps felt unnaturally loud under the sudden, furious crashing as Rumble obliterated the conference room seconds later. From behind her, she could feel glass, drywall, and furniture shattering beneath the vengeful howls of the Decepticon as he destroyed the room. Great, now he was pissed. If he wasn't going to kill her before, now Rumble was going to tear her limb from limb, and face the fury of his master later. But the option was either that or torture... and she decided to take her chances on the former, because that left her with the only real fighting chance. She knew with undeniable certainty that if she ended up under Soundwave's supervision that whatever fate had in store for her would be far worse than a potential death now.

Following the rows of doors and desks, Allison was about to head for the stairs, but she panicked at the last moment and veered around the corner of the cubicles to the left towards the elevator instead.

"WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LITTLE COCKROACH?" She could hear Rumble's furious scream from down the hallway as he ran out of the conference room, heading down the hallway in her direction with pounding steps. The mouth of the stairwell would be back in Rumble's direct line of sight. She knew he'd be able to take the stairs in one leap and crush her, and she was in no state to beat him down to the bottom. Panicked, she whirled around and slapper her palm against the elevator call button. Mercifully, her heart lept with a shuttering beat of hope as the doors immediately opened. She scrambled inside, swinging around and hitting the side of the elevator car and began madly pressing the button to close the door. It slid to a close painfully slow, just as she caught an impression of Rumble's massive shadow as he emerged around the corner. There was an angry curse from outside the elevator car, and Allison began to frantically press buttons for the floors below; the ground floor, basement, she didn't care at this point and just wanted to be anywhere he wasn't. The elevator began to descend not a second too soon.

There was a violent boom as the elevator door dented inwards, bending sharply as a ragged metal hole revealed the calamity outside. Rumble's leery expression sneered at her from the other side, and receded upwards as the elevator slowly moved down. This was stupid.

The elevator slid to a stop on the first floor, and the doors opened out to the shocking serenity of a floor that was still untouched. Allison paused for a moment, just long enough to realize that there was no immediate threat, and ran out. Looking around urgently, she ran down the hallway towards where the front entrance was. She could see the atrium ahead of her, and she slowed, looking back just enough to be certain that nothing was behind her.

When she turned back to the open, glass room, an unnatural shadow caught her eye. Catching her breath in her throat Allison ducked into a side door, getting down low so she could stare out undetected. It was hard to discern what the shadow was, but it seemed to slink forward near the ground, gracefully gliding along the front wall before disappearing to the right. That wasn't normal, and she could only assume that it had to be another threat. She was trapped.

Gritting her teeth, Allison took a moment to decide on what she needed to do. She looked at her bleeding hand, and grimaced at the extent of the damage. There was an odd angular gash down the center of her palm that curved back up towards her thumb. It was deep, and the blood was pooling generously in the cracks of her skin and between her fingers, sliding down her wrist and getting beneath the cuff of her jacket. It hurt like hell, and she was no doctor, but she had enough sense to know that the wound was far too deep to leave unattended. Looking around quickly, she found she was in a janitorial closet, and there was a pile of thin, pressed shirts on a shelf in the corner. She grabbed one and tightly wrapped it around her hand to try and apply pressure to the wound. It was awkward, but it would have to do for now.

"COME OUT COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE!" Rumble's voice forced her back into the moment, and there was a monumental crunch of rendering metal from the direction of the elevator, followed by slow, plodding footsteps. Allison darted out, saw Rumble walking down towards her, eerily calm as the full mass of his body filled the entire hallway like a moving barricade. She bit down another cry of panic, trying not to draw the attention of whatever else was lurking around. There was another side passage straight ahead of her, and she ran for it, her eyes searching for a safe place to go. Skipping the first door she came to, she ran into the second, finding herself in a row of cubicles; she recognized it as the HR department. This wasn't good. There was no way out of the building this way. There were some stairs at the back that went back up to the second floor, which wasn't a better alternative. There was no other choice, so she ran for the stairwell and clambered back up.

The door to the second floor was closed, and she jiggled the handle frantically. She didn't know why; these doors didn't have locks. Maybe it was being blocked by something on the other side. Running back up the stairs she found herself back on the third floor. She felt like a rat deepening itself into a hole, only this one went up. This door was mercifully unlocked, and she was back in her own cubicle block but now on the other side of the building; the IT department. The light on the far end was still swinging erratically, the glimmer spinning past her vision as it created an odd scene of destruction.

Allison ran to a window which extended from the floor to the roof, and stared out into the night. This part of the building wasn't attached to the car park, but only the ground below could be seen from the window. The other half of the floor was now gone. There wasn't a way down here, and nothing she could jump onto. Something clanged from the stairwell below, and she swore under her breath. Running to a nearby cubicle, she climbed under the desk, closing her eyes tight. There was nothing else she could do. She had to hide and hope he didn't see her.

Something growled. Allison stopped breathing, but she didn't dare open her eyes. The growl came again, but it sounded a little further away. She decided to risk peering around the corner. At first she didn't see anything, but then she spotted it: a mechanical tail, poking out from behind a cubicle before sliding around the corner and out of view. It was long and slender, and barbed with sharp, metallic spikes. Her heart skipped a beat, and she crawled back under the desk and held her breath. There was a soft clinking, and she knew that whatever the tail belonged to was slowly coming closer. It was seeking her out. Her eyes never moved from the space in front of her. Any second the creature would appear in view. It would find her cubicle, and duck its head and it would see her. It would see her, and it would kill her. And then it would all be over. No more Wheeljack. No more Allison. No more...

With a crash, the desk she was under was suddenly thrust violently into the air. Allison scrambled to her feet and spun around, finding herself face to face with both Rumble and an ungodly looking robotic creature that strangely resembled a feline. It was huge, almost as big as her, but it was sleekly designed, with skinny legs, a barrel chest and slender head. Its tail was whipping around behind it erratically, the same one she'd seen disappear around the corner of the desks. It was jet black, with shining red eyes that burned holes into her with malicious intent. The creature growled and tensed, looking like it was about to pounce. Behind it, Rumble threw the desk he held, and grinned as Allison backed away.

"Quite the agile one aren't ya Miss Allison? Though not as agile as my friend here, I can assure you." Rumble gestured to his companion with a non-damaged hand, the one she'd stabbed twisted at an odd angle at his waist. Rumble's "friend" never took its gaze from Allison. It looked like it was straining just to refrain from tearing her throat out. "Sure, you's could probably keep running in circles in this stupid building until either I pull it apart or yer servos give way..." he said silkily, voice laced with juvenile amusement. "Or I pull apart yer servos..." he added offhandedly. "But Ravage, here? He never gets tired. How long until ya get tired, Miss Allison?"

He didn't get any further than that, for in one swift motion his healthy arm transformed and slammed into the floor sending Allison to her knees. The glass window behind her exploded with the architectural stress, raining glass bullets down against her back. She tried to protect her head and her neck with her hands, but felt the stings of glass shards as they bounced off her skin leaving paper thin cuts in their wake.

Rumble was giggling, and had taken a massive step forward. The cat creature, Ravage, was growling low and dangerous, and it seemed to radiate from his entire body. Allison managed to stand and backed away, feeling the rush of cold air against her. Looking back, there was only open air and the night beyond. They'd backed her into the point of no return. It was either jump and die, or die at Soundwave's hand.

One of those options was sounding awfully more tempting than the other.

Allison took another step back, her eyes wide on Rumble as a brief ripple of understanding crossed over his face. He tilted his head at her, seemingly intrigued, but there was a moderate hint of alarm on his face.

"Ya know... you dyin' doesn't exactly stop us from taking that little funny thing with all them words in it... now does it Miss Allison?"

She swallowed, knowing he was right. Allison found the strap of her bag and instinctively grabbed it, almost protectively.

"This... is pointless you know... you'll... you'll never win..." she stuttered, trying to be defiant. Ravage snarled as a slight smirk crept across Rumble's face.

"Would ya feel the same way if ya knew what happened to yer, ah, Autobot friend... boy what a mess..." Rumble chuckled, as it was Allison's turn to let her expression betray her. Her eyes widened for a moment before she quickly tried to re-arrange her face to appear indifferent; to not appear weakened by the news. Wheeljack... oh no... "Traitorous scum begged and pleaded like a pitiful little Sparkling... Disgustin', but not quite as much as what happened afterwords..." he finished with an obscene grin. It wasn't true... she refused to believe it...

"I don't see your big, bumbling master around here... must be bleeding in a hole somewhere..." she feigned, trying to hide the sudden wave of hopelessness she now felt. Rumble was bluffing. He had to be lying. "Besides," she continued, swallowing hard. "You're too stupid to know what to do with the book... I have the comprehension you need... but you lose if I die... and I'm willing to bet Soundwave doesn't tolerate failure..." she didn't even know if that was true, but Allison was grasping at straws now, trying anything to buy herself the time to figure out how to get out of this.

Allison took another step back, feeling another rush of cold air hit her as she moved closer to the window. Ravage hissed and slunk back just slightly, and Rumble's eyes suddenly went wide. Perplexed, Allison watched them and tried to decipher just why they were suddenly so horrified. Then-

"Hello boys."

Allison whirled around at the sudden, shocking voice behind her, throwing up her arms in defense as she came face to face with bright, azure light emanating from another massive source. There was not even time to really see anything, before a surge of movement and noise rose around her as Rumble and Ravage both lunged at her simultaneously. What followed would be one of the most uncomfortable sensations of Allison's life.

There was a sudden force that closed around her body, pinning her arms to her sides sending a sharp, torturous lance of pain from her wounded hand. It was followed by a hard yank in the outside direction, her head whipping forward painfully as she nearly smashed face first into thin, metallic fingers. Allison felt the air outside hit her like a slap in the face as she continued to fly back, and for one wild moment she thought she'd been thrown. But the solid grip of the hand did not waver, and only when it paused did she have enough time and sense to look forward to see what had grabbed her. It was not Wheeljack, nor was it Ratchet. It was not Soundwave or Starscream either, this was someone else, and whoever they were, they were rather shockingly pink.

Allison couldn't see the robot's face, nor much of their head for that matter. The body of the robot was angled sharply to the side, her position in the hand leaning back away from the two Decepticons who were now charging at this newcomer. They disappeared from her view, and the action was obscured by the large, blocky shapes that rose up from the robot's back and over the shoulders like an angel's wings at rest.

As the robot swung around, Allison only got one glance of the face before her body was swinging again, but there was just the vaguest impression of some kind of glowing visor where the eyes should have been. While her body swung around, her eyes instinctively tried to catch any sort of insignia to mark her savior, to tell her this wasn't a cruel trick and she wasn't about to die.

Suddenly Allison felt cold, wet ground as she was rolled along the pavement away from the battle. Her head still spinning, she managed to angle her neck to see what was happening. The movement was one giant mass of chaos. Ravage was nowhere to be seen, but Rumble was struggling in the midst of battle with this newly arrived robot, who in retrospect, was much bigger than he was. The pink robot finally managed to swing around, dislodging the Decepticon monster from its face just as he was about to pound it with his clubbed arm. It grabbed Rumble and threw him bodily to the ground with a clatter of metal against asphalt, spinning quickly and gracefully to crouch in front of Allison like a shield. A section of its lower leg opened up, and it pulled out what looked like a sleek, shining gun, aiming it at the foe Allison could no longer see. It fired two, explosive shots, and there was an angry shriek in the distance.

Allison forced herself to stand, and turned to run, limping away and around the side of the building towards a lunch courtyard around the back. This was the complete opposite side of the building from the car park, a hidden oasis of neatly trimmed hedges and ornate trees. There was of course, no vegetation this time of year, but it was away from the calamity so Allison wasn't particularly interested in a garden stroll. She wasn't entirely sure she should be trusting this newcomer, and erring on the side of caution, she was trying to stick with the plan which included getting the hell out of the city. Firstly though, that meant getting away from this building, and from where she was, going through the courtyard was the only way.

Three more shots rang out in the night, followed by an angry roar, this one foreign and unfamiliar. There was an odd twang to it that she couldn't place, but felt as if it was something she should recognize.

It was forced from her mind as she heard a growl from behind her. Allison turned in time to see Ravage hurtle through the bushes towards her with a powerful leap of limbs. Turning, she fled, her feet taking her to the small maintenance shed on the far end. She managed to make it without getting trampled, and slammed the door shut and locked it, trying to think of what to do. It was a tiny, concrete block, with no windows, and no way out. There was a bang, followed by a guttural growl from Ravage outside, then sudden silence.

Allison held her breath, looking around for something, anything to use to defend herself. Her eyes found a simple axe hanging on the wall, and she was immediately drawn to it. Grabbing it, she held it in both hands, wincing as it pressed against her cut up palm. It wasn't heavy, or particularly powerful, but it would have to do.

A few moments passed with continued silence. Allison didn't move at first, but just stood there and waited. All her options were spinning around her head in the form of a whirling conundrum. She was safe, but for how long? Would she really make it out of the city? At this rate, she was screwed. She was tired of running, tired of being chased, and most of all, tired of being weak.  
And Wheeljack...

To hell with this...

Wheeljack had left her to her own devices... because he'd had confidence in her. He'd seen some kind of strength in her that she seemingly could not find, but he must have known it was there. If she died like this, without making an effort to stand up and protect herself, she would only be betraying his trust and judgement in her. No, she had to get her head in the right place and find her confidence now. It was time to stop running.

And if he'd died to give her this fighting chance, she would be desecrating his memory. She couldn't do that.

Gripping the axe, she steeled herself for the very likely one-sided battle that was to come. Allison had to push all fears of death and pain from her mind, and focus on her own strength. This was... well, a metal cat after all... she'd have to assume it behaved as one and try to outsmart it.

Opening the door slightly to peer out, she saw nothing. There was no sound coming from the battle on the other side of the building either. The grounds were alarmingly empty and quiet. Allison took a step out of the shed quietly and took stock of the environment around her.

There was light spilling overhead from a lamp, casting nothing at all but her shadow on the grass below. She took a step forward before pausing slightly, and her blood froze when for a brief moment, her shadow kept moving. Her body went cold. Looking down, she realized there was something else casting another shadow onto hers. Allison stood in one spot, waiting for further movement or for the thing to eventually pounce, but it didn't. She moved slightly, and again the extra shadow moved too. She didn't turn around, didn't dare look back. The thing was playing with her.

Oh to hell with it. There was only one thing to do…

Allison spun around, at the exact moment that a horrendous, animal roar sounded off from the Decepticon behind her. Gritting her teeth Allison ran forward just as Ravage lunged, swinging the axe around towards the feline head chomping towards her with glimmering rows of sharp teeth. There was a shuddering, painful connection as the head of the axe hit solid metal, Ravage's head snapping sideways with the unexpected impact as the mecha feline's body went flying to the side.

Allison felt a surge of tears in her eyes as the action opened the wound in her hand anew, the warm gush of blood soaking what remained of the shirt. It was the most raw, unbearable pain she'd ever felt, and she almost dropped the axe, unable to bear the hurt any longer. But Ravage was getting up, sharp, metal teeth snapping as it rounded on her again. It jumped forward and swatted at her with a massive front paw, leaping up onto its back legs as its entire arm came down towards her head.

Raising the axe, Allison deflected the immediate blow, but the force brought her down to her knees with a scream of agony as her palm was ground into the hilt of her weapon. Blind and nearly delirious from the pain, Allison managed to weakly dodge to the side as Ravage's jaw slammed shut dangerously close to her ear. Shaking off her wound, Allison got to her feet and brought the axe back around, catching Ravage just behind the jaw and ear, jamming the axe somewhere below the creature's plating. It was stuck, and Allison lost her grip on the slick handle of the axe as Ravage flailed around in desperation to dislodge the axe. There was the briefest of openings, and Allison ran forward and kicked the Decepticon in the side with all the strength she could muster.

Ravage was already off balance and distracted, so it went down with little effort, but the force of its fall freed the axe from its prison in the creature's neck. Sparing no time or thought for her physical safety, Allison ran up and snatched it from the ground, lifting it over her head and bringing it down again on the already damaged and exposed connections of its neck. It hissed, shrieking and writhing in pain, and Allison just barely escaped the thrashing of its sharp, clawed feet as they swung erratically in the air. She couldn't tell if Ravage was dying, but it seemed at the very least to be stunned enough that she could finish it off.

Exhausted to the point of passing out, Allison stood over Ravage, gasping, sweat soaking her hair and her clothing. Bringing the axe up over her head again, she suddenly hesitated.  
This wasn't just a machine. It was a killer, yes, it was evil, yes.. but... it was still a living being, despite being made of metal. She was about to commit murder... and that made her hesitate.  
Long enough to hear the stomp behind her, followed by laughter.

"I think your servos are about to give out Miss Allison..." Rumble was giggling. Turning, weakly, Allison met Rumble straight on. No longer stooped beneath a roof, he easily dwarfed her despite all of Ratchet's and Wheeljack's claims of him being small. He had to be nine or ten feet tall, hovering over her with eyes that glowed red with murder. Letting the axe fall out of her grip in defeat, she knew she didn't have nearly the energy left to fight Rumble off too...

"Now.. what to do... what to do... Kill ya now, or let da boss do it after having some fun wit you?" Rumble was leering at her, bringing his good arm forward to make a grab for her. She stepped back to avoid it and stumbled over Ravage's still squirming body, landing flat on her back. The exhaustion and pain was too much to ignore now, and all she could manage was a weak attempt to back away on the ground.

"Go to hell," she spat, shrinking back. What happened to that other, bigger robot that had grabbed her from the window?

Suddenly out of nowhere came an enormous, flash of light that had Allison momentarily blinded. There was a shower of sparks and an angry squeal from Rumble as he was sent flying back into the maintenance shed that she'd taken refuge in. This time he didn't get back up.

"Quickly!" the command was quick, and firm... and the voice... was peculiar...

Allison managed to turn around, ignoring Ravage's gurgling attempts at snarling as his limbs had finally weakened to near stillness. She suspected that Soundwave would not be very pleased, but there was no time to think about that now.

The pink robot was running towards her, the weapon in its hand still smoking. There were various dents and scratches along the robot's body, which Allison oddly noted was drastically slimmer than what she'd been exposed to thus far. There was the vaguest impression of a familiar swagger, a swaying at the hips as this robot moved that was suddenly, very unmistakable to her. It only took less than a second to scan over this robot with her eyes, and they widened with disbelief as her gaze rested on the top half of this individual. It was sharply angled, and curved in such a way that one would have to be blind to not notice what it represented. For whatever reason, this robot had the unmistakable impression of breasts, and an Autobot symbol placed conveniently above them.

The robot stopped just short of her and immediately collapsed in transformation, becoming one of the oddest vehicles she'd ever seen. It was most certainly, not an Earth creation. It was far too sleek and advanced looking to be a human invention. One side popped open, followed by,

"Get in. Now!" The voice was soft, and much higher pitched than any of the others, but held a hardness to it that signified pure confidence. Allison had no idea where she found the strength to move, but somehow she managed to get up and stumble awkwardly towards the open "door", or whatever it seemed to be. Looking inside hesitantly, Allison was unsure of what exactly she was supposed to do... having nowhere to sit.

"Oh." the remark from within was quick, followed by a brief rearrangement of parts inside, forming what vaguely looked like a seat. "Come on, before their much larger other half decides to show his face..." and that was all the encouragement she needed, for she was in no state to meet Soundwave again. Stumbling, Allison jumped in, trying to find some kind of comfort in the awkward "seat" just as the robot took off. The noise was definitely alien.

"You're a female," Allison blurted stupidly, knowing that the pain in her hand, and now her knee from when she kicked Ravage, was making her babble. "I - err - how does that-?" At the very least, it confirmed that she wasn't insane for calling Wheeljack and Ratchet he all this time, but she was now filled with very weird questions.

"Well spotted. So the boys did employ some sort of decency then.. although... Mister Jack has always been far too polite for that sort of talk.. and Ratchet, well..." she stopped, a brief hesitation that Allison couldn't ignore, and found incredibly curious, but knew she wasn't acquainted yet with this robot enough to pry. There was a continued pause, then the Autobot female abruptly changed the subject. "My name is Arcee. You seem surprised that I would be a woman?" There was hardly a moment to make the connection that Arcee had mentioned Wheeljack and Ratchet.

Wheeljack, oh God...

He was out there fighting for nothing, possibly dead if what Rumble had said was true, and this was made further paramount by the fact that Soundwave's minions were here... but no Soundwave... at least not yet.

"I am, yeah." she murmured, trying to think on something else. Surely this Arcee must know something that she didn't.

"That's what you get from hanging out with the boys. They can drive you absolutely insane." Her tone suddenly changed, sounding slightly irritated, and speaking fast like an angry school teacher. "It's also typical. I mean really typical. You can't trust those guys to tell you everything, it's like they have to keep some things a big secret because they think you can't deal with too much information."  
"Maybe they were just being polite? Wheeljack said..." Allison began, but was quickly interrupted.

"Mister Jack likes to think he knows more than you do. I mean yes, you're right, I know he's just trying to be polite because he is polite, but there are times when you need him to tell you everything to fill you in on the situation, and if you don't ask you can tell for sure he's not going to tell you about it on his own. It's infuriating. But he thinks he's doing what's best for you." she seemed to sigh. Allison wasn't paying attention to where they were going, and was afraid to ask. She was starting to feel uncomfortable being in this odd, cramped space with wiring and lights all blinking at her, as if trying to remind her that she was technically not supposed to be in there. Instead, Allison tried to keep herself distracted by talking.

"Wheeljack... is he.. uhm..." she began, but again, Arcee stopped her.

"I'm so proud of him... that boy really does deserve such a special friend... after all this time of being so lonely, and complaining..." Arcee kept talking but Allison tuned her out, mostly now distracted by her own pain and her sudden desire to close her eyes and go to sleep. So.. she somehow knew about Wheeljack's "condition".. so that would mean...

Something in the back of Arcee chirped, and before it could fully register what it was, a small round disk with legs lept into her lap.

"Bean!" Allison whimpered, pleasantly surprised to the point of tears. The sudden realization that she had left Bean behind entered her mind, and she felt incredibly bad for having been so caught up in the chaos that it hadn't crossed her. "I left you behind, you poor thing. I'm so sorry..." Bean chirped happily, seemingly indifferent to being even momentarily forgotten. Allison managed an exhausted pat on the little creatures head, before Bean squeezed her way back into Allison's bag where she was still and content.

"I found him on his back outside the building, tangled up in a bush. Poor thing couldn't get up so I helped it. I assume it belongs to you?" Arcee asked. Allison had to close her eyes for a moment, to focus her response.

"She does, actually."

"Oh, she's a girl? I'm sorry I didn't have time to notice. I picked her up and integrated her into my body for safe keeping. A little banged up, but no worse for wear," Arcee said pleasantly, then seemed to sigh with content. Now that Bean was safely tucked away in her bag, Allison felt complete enough to let her mind go back to other things.

"Is Ratchet... ever decent?" Allison ventured, trying to indirectly ask about Ratchet's state of functioning. There was something about talking to this stranger of an Autobot that was making her slightly uncomfortable, like she didn't quite know what to make of Arcee yet.

"Oooh, you just don't know him yet!" Arcee twittered cheerfully, and there was now a certain warmth to her voice that was very comforting. The air from where Allison was sitting suddenly changed, seeming to relax at once, allowing her to exhale with some comfort. This Autobot had a very soothing, nurturing presence about her, and whether or not that had to do with the whole feminine aspect or something else, would have to be further investigated later. "How is your hand?" she asked suddenly. Allison realized she'd been cradling her hand against her stomach, trying hard not to bleed all over Arcee's insides.

"Erm... fine?" she whimpered unconvincingly.

"Nonsense... don't worry, Ratchet will patch you all up," Arcee remarked casually. Allison felt her heart flutter, followed by a surge of relief which swelled up from her stomach.

"R-Ratchet... he's okay?" she stuttered, knowing that she sounded slightly hysterical but couldn't contain the happiness over hearing he was okay. That was at least, some good news.

"Goodness, I never thought I'd hear such excitement over Ratchet!" Allison got the impression that Arcee was teasing her. "But of course he's fine, why wouldn't he have been?" she questioned, and at this point, Allison realized this newcomer's knowledge must have been quite limited. "Later, later, save your strength now. I'm reading that you've taken quite a beating... we're almost there."

The rest of the journey was clouded over with a mixture of exhaustion, and crippling pain that nearly made her weep with barely conscious joy when Arcee finally stopped. Allison had no idea where they were, and frankly didn't care. She was on the verge of a blackout anyway.

"Are you okay to walk on your own?" Arcee questioned, seemingly concerned as the "door" popped open again. Allison nodded, feeling sick, and stumbled out onto cool grass. She recognized this grass. She only got the vaguest glance of Wheeljack's barn before she collapsed in a heap, unable to stand. She heard Arcee transform, a much more delicate, graceful sound than the others, and the Autobot peered down at her with a pair of blue glowing eyes.

This robot's face was definitely much softer, the angles smoother and far more graceful than the hard, rigid angles on the faces she'd seen on Wheeljack and Ratchet. The light, swooping of the eyes with the visor now gone, and subtle curve of the mouth certainly exuded a certain femininity. Allison was having a hard time grasping that conclusion. One, because it was bizarre, and two, because she was barely focused enough to care. Arcee seemed to be frowning, before her gaze briefly turned upwards towards something that Allison couldn't see.

Allison only felt the distinct thud thud of the ground heralding the approach of something big, before Ratchet's frowning face filled her vision above he. His eye widened for a minute, the glow intensifying before they narrowed in deep concentration.

"What... in the AllSpark... have you been doing?" Ratchet's expression was even, despite the suspicion in his eyes, but his voice was soft. With great care, he quickly scooped her up from the ground, carrying her into the barn with Arcee close on his heels. Allison curled up in Ratchet's palm, so incredibly content and relieved to see him again, but not having the strength to show it. She wondered if he'd just been here the whole time... and Wheeljack just hadn't picked up on it. What a cruel twist of irony that would have been.

A feeling of annoyance made a feeble attempt to crush her, but it was quickly squashed as Ratchet dumped her body unceremoniously onto the worktable he'd used to repair Wheeljack a month earlier. Sparing no time to allow Allison to recover and figure out what was going on, Ratchet had her hand, and was peeling off the bloodied shirt. It had somehow gotten glued to her hand by the gummy, caked blood that had stuck the fabric against her palm and into the wound itself. Ratchet spared no decency in dislodging it from her skin. The reawakening of sharp, merciless pain snapped Allison out of her hazy stupor screaming.

"That hurts, Ratchet! Stop!" she cried through tears of excruciating agony, with a weak slap of her hand to brush him off. Ratchet, spared only a quick glare in her direction, but otherwise ignored her. Arcee seemed to be watching,

"She's been through a lot tonight..." she said faintly.

"Yes I can see that," Ratchet grumbled, forcing Allison's arm forward. Ratchet extended his other hand, and there was an odd whirring noise as one of his fingers shifted, revealing what Allison could only describe as the glowing, searing tip of a fire stoker. She knew exactly what he was going to do.

"N-No! D-on't you d-dare use that on me-" Ratchet dropped her hand and lifted his own towards her face. There was a quick, lightening fast motion in his wrist, then a bitter, acrid sensation filled Allison's nose and mouth. In less than a second she was out cold.

* * *

**Two things:**

**I'm using Rumble's G1 cartoon colors.. rather then deal with the torture of trying to decide who is what color. He's blue and grey, and I'm sticking with it.**

**In regards to Arcee, I'm going to be taking a lot of creative liberties with her relationship with Ratchet. So here we go.**


	29. The Aftermath

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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* * *

**

As soon as Allison's head hit the surface of the worktable, Ratchet did a quick scan over to ensure that her vitals were stable. Satisfied that she was sufficiently knocked out, he gently picked her arm up again, lifting her palm towards him to examine the extent of the damage. Grimly, he poked at her cut flesh, investigated the seriousness of the wound and quickly coming to terms with the optimum way to treat it. It was a deep clean cut, which was at least somewhat good, because that meant it would take less to properly mend. But it was bleeding severely, and that needed to be stopped before he could do anything. If nothing was done it would likely be far more dangerous later on.

Ratchet didn't have the necessary medical equipment with him. That had all been left at his infirmary back at the Autobot base, but for now he would have to improvise with the tools he had. That meant stopping the bleed in a much less traditional fashion, but it would get the job done. He didn't bother wondering how she'd gotten the cut in the first place. If the Decepticons had been around then anything had been possible.

"Was that really necessary?" Arcee quipped, interrupting his deep concentration as she folding her arms across her chest. "You aren't exactly delicate, so how did you expect her to react?" she said, with only a subtle hint of irony in her voice.

"That was for her own good," Ratchet retorted, nonplussed. "Not for my benefit, believe me..." He began working on her hand. "I don't have the necessary decontaminates, and there isn't exactly time to go to the drug store..." clearly the sarcasm was noted, but Arcee was apparently feeling meddlesome enough to continue the argument.

"Yes, but was forcing her into stasis really necessary? You could have just told her...".

"She will thank me for it later. If you would have rather suffered through her screaming and crying, then you should have said so." he replied, not bothering to look up from what he was doing. He was too concentrated on every little movement of his own hands, not wanting to burn any healthy parts of her skin.

"Such a kind Spark, Ratchet," Arcee said, fondly. "I know it's in there somewhere..." she made the slightest gesture of the optics, like a wink. Ratchet paused, looking up.

"You're fingers are much smaller then mine. You'll need to help with the mending," he muttered, changing the subject abruptly. Arcee nodded, smiling.

"Just like old times, then?" she said, optics sparkling, but then she frowned. "Wheeljack wasn't with her..."

Ratchet stopped, thinking this over. Allison's hand was limp against his fingers, now blacked and burned along the cut, but the bleeding had stopped as intended. That would at least suffice for now in terms of cleaning the affected area, enough so that he could now turn to how to keep her from opening the cut again. Then Ratchet realized he was just distracting himself from the more pressing issue, and that was Wheeljack's idiocy.

"I was afraid of that when I left the immediate range, that he would go off and do something brainless..." he growled, continuing his doctoring. Arcee pursed her lips and looked down at what he was doing.

"Think she knows where he went?" she said, gesturing to the unconscious human. Ratchet shook his head.

"I'm willing to bet he dropped her off somewhere then disappeared without telling her where... probably thought he was protecting her. I told him this would happen, but he wouldn't listen..."

"Now Ratchet, do you really think he had a choice over how he ended up feeling? You of all Autobots should know..." Arcee paused. "Besides," she pointed out. "He was so lonely and withdrawn all the time back on Cybertron I think it's a good thing."

"You femmes... your Sparks are always in the strangest places," Ratchet grumped, flinching as Arcee took a swipe at his chevron. He narrowed his eyes, but couldn't keep up the guise for long.

"Err- how are you doing?" he asked pointedly, looking over at the mildly beaten state of Arcee in front of him. Clearly he already knew how she was, having scanned her over the minute he saw her and determined there was no significant damage. Arcee likely knew this as well, but he was merely trying to be polite. She looked herself over quickly and just shrugged, a light bounce of her shoulders as she looked back at him.

"It's just mostly surface scratches. I can buff them right out," she said offhandedly with little concern.

"Need any help with that?" Ratchet asked, distractedly, returning to repairing Allison's damaged hand. He stopped briefly as Allison jerked, an automatic response from her nervous system, but once he made a quick check to ensure she wasn't coming out of stasis prematurely he continued to check over his work until he was satisfied he's been completely thorough.

"Why Ratchet! How forward of you!" Arcee teased after a moments thought.

"That's not what I meant!" he countered. There was a stilted pause, before he awkwardly tried to change the subject again. "I'm sure Wheeljack is fine. It's not the first time he's blown himself up."

"Yes, but those were lab experiments. And we are talking Soundwave here..." She murmured, following along with the more dire problems they faced that did not include her less than pristine physical state. She placed a hand forward on the table. "We need to find him... regardless of how much Soundwave might have left behind..." she said, stating the obvious that Ratchet had already come to terms with several clicks past. He sighed.

"Yes I know. We'll go look for him, but first I need you to help me now," he said, setting down her hand. On a separate finger he altered his own plating and internal configuration to produce something similar to a Cybertronian welding device, although on a much smaller frequency. Puncture wounds, cracks, and gashes in Cybertronian plating certainly needed a much more powerful state of heat to be able to graft the exoskeleton together after the necessary internal repairs were completed. Human tissue, could not take that same level of abuse, so it was more on the level of a powerful glue gun, grafting the skin in such a way that it effectively mended the tissue together more efficient than stitch work. He had procured it long ago after learning to tend to human ailments.

It had only taken mere minutes to absorb the vastness of collected human medical documents, but it had been a seemingly useful thing to learn at the time. Ever since then it had proved to be more than a necessity. Arcee however, didn't seem to understand the need for this, but then again, having just arrived on the planet mere hours ago he couldn't expect her to understand everything.

"When their epidermis is cut too deep it needs intervention if it's to heal properly, otherwise they will succumb to infection and parasites. Humans are very delicate creatures and are not as hardy as we are. Her hand is too small for me to do this myself, so I need you..." he muttered, in response to Arcee's curious expression. Arcee wasn't dumb, and had acquired a relatively complete understanding of humanity and the planet Earth in just the short time she'd already been here, but there were still nuances that would have to be learned with time. She nodded to him, seemingly hesitant. "It will be easier if you hold her hand for me." Arcee nodded again silently and delicately gathered up the girl's hand in her own slender fingers, letting the palm rest up towards Ratchet's scrutiny. His right optic telescoped outwards to allow the magnification of Allison's tiny little hand for such delicate medical work.

The mending was an unusual task to view for the newly-arrived femme, but through Ratchet's direction the precision in which he operated was unparalleled. While she was no Autobot, he was able to tend to the wound in a manner without resorting to primitive human stitches, which would ensure very little healing time, and continued functionality of her nerve endings. Allison would very much feel the pain of the inflamed tissue for a day or so, but that would quickly disappear and she would soon feel as if nothing had happened at all. He cleaned the mess up afterwords, and got to work wrapping the hand in proper dressings from a roll produced from a small compartment on his shoulder.

"You can let go now." He nodded to Arcee, satisfied that the work was sufficient, and she obliged. The aging Autobot kept his gaze on Allison. She would be out cold for a sufficient amount of time, but the more alarming concern was why she'd been found wandering around her place of employment alone, with two of Soundwave's Minicons chasing her.

"Are you sure she was completely alone?" Ratchet pressed. Arcee nodded. "These two are as impulsive as each other. It's possible they had an argument and separated."

Arcee shook her head. "I don't know. Wheeljack isn't stupid. If things are as serious as you say, I don't know if he'd allow her out of his sight."

"Normally I'd agree with you Arcee, but he's been out of contact since your arrival." It had been completely unexpected to receive a distress hail from her, of all places and times, so Ratchet had needed to leave the two to meet Arcee before someone else did. He'd been able to quickly fill her on on everything that had been happening, hoping that things would be just as he'd left them. But they clearly hadn't, much to his chagrin, and out of anything that could have gone wrong this was probably one of the worst possible scenarios. "I've been trying frequently to hail him since then, but I'm not getting anything in response. Allison I could understand. Organics are harder to keep track of. But Wheeljack's life signs should at the very least be online, and I'm not reading anything. My worry is that he's gone and done something desperate." This was both worrisome and infuriating to the medic.

Worrisome in that he'd not gotten a chance to alert Wheeljack to the situation before he'd reached the limits of their internal communications.

Infuriating because Wheeljack had acted on impulse. Understandably so given the circumstances, but that did not alleviate the very real fact that he'd done something insanely stupid. They could have hidden, anywhere, even come back here and waited for him to return with Arcee. Primus, running back to Cybertron would have made more sense at this point, but Wheeljack's incessant need to actively protect Allison had led him to wander off and get hurt, maybe even killed.

Arcee looked over Allison with a degree of scrutiny. Her eyes hardened. "You know, she somehow managed to fight off Ravage all by herself. That slagging glitch could have easily killed her, but she held her own."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same girl?" Ratchet's was incredulous. "This being the same Allison that's barely been able to go 32 megacycles without needing to be saved, and cries like a protoform every time she gets a scratch?" Arcee was frowning at him. "...You're right, maybe I am being a little harsh. And I guess that is impressive..." he looked down at the prone Allison with a much higher degree of pride for the human.

"You know you're too much of a softy to really be bothered by any of that," Arcee tapped his shoulder. "You should have seen that building though… it was a war zone. They really chased her up and down that thing, and they eventually had her trapped. If I hadn't intervened, I don't want to think what they would have done." Arcee said. She raised a brow at him with intrigue.

"What?" Ratchet grunted, looking down. He hadn't even realized he'd been holding his hand over Allison's body protectively like a shield. He cycled roughly, optics shifting. "Alright, alright, yes I care… But let's concentrate on Wheeljack's whereabouts for now. That's our priority."

Arcee looked at Ratchet, worriedly. "Wheeljack could be injured... or worse." Arcee looked at the girl. "She's been through an awful lot of stress. I don't know how much she could take. Seeing Wheeljack in pieces... it could send her over the edge." Ratchet nodded his wordless understanding to her, then paused. His features went hard.

"We're going to have to leave her here." Despite his better judgments, Ratchet looked down and gave Allison's bag a rude poke. It was lying next to her on the table, where he'd placed it after they'd arrived. "It's OK...eh...Bean." Ratchet didn't miss Arcee's raised eyebrow. "You can come out now." There was a rustling from within, before two yellow eyes peered out, hesitantly eying the medic and the pink newcomer before slowly creeping out onto the table surface. Arcee looked up at Ratchet, smiling.

"I rescued her from a bush."

"Not you too... Shoulda' left it there," Ratchet grumbled. The little creature lept onto Allison's stomach and waved an angry claw at him. He had to restrain the incessant urge to crush the little drone right there on the spot, but Arcee's challenging gaze stopped him. He sighed deeply.

"We don't have much of a choice, but we'll leave this thing… ah, Bean here to watch her."

"Will it be enough?"

Ratchet shrugged heavily, feeling weighed down by the choice that was not ideal, but was necessary. Not on the focus of Allison's physical safety, but he was worried for her emotional health as well. "It's better than nothing I suppose. Wheeljack has this place well shielded, and frankly it would be less conspicuous without us occupying it, as they'd be more likely to attack us then an empty building with no reason to believe she's in here." Ratchet lifted his hand towards the little robot and it shied away from him, scuttling off Allison's stomach to rest near her head, nuzzling against her neck. "If anything, Bean can send us a signal if there's any disturbance." He addressed Bean directly. "Bean, it's your job to tell Allison when she wakes up that we're going to find Wheeljack and bring him back. She is not, I repeat, not under an circumstances to leave this building. If she moves, nail her to the table."

"Ratchet!"

"I'm just being careful! She needs to rest. This is the girl who can't walk a block away without blundering into a Decepticon's hand for Primus' sake. I don't even want to think about her leaving this building if she happens to wake up before we return." Ratchet checked over Allison one last time, making sure she was stabilized and comfortable. Bean remained nuzzled against her side. It would have to do. They just had to hope it wouldn't take long to find Wheeljack, or what was left of him.

Fearing the worst, they both set out into the night.

Arcee moved fast over the road, and Ratchet followed close behind. They hadn't been driving long, but already the panic was starting to settle over them like a heavy fog. Ratchet was busy scanning their immediate area, reaching out as far as he possibly could for any sign of the engineer, but each burst of his internal radar came back with only a stench of dread: Nothing.

"Are you picking up a signal yet?" he finally asked, hoping that perhaps Arcee was having better luck than he was.

"No, still nothing I'm afraid," was her stagnant reply. They had decided to try locking on to any Decepticon energies, rather than Wheeljack's. If he really was offline, it was going to be near impossible to find him. But if Wheeljack had run into Soundwave, chances were good the Decepticon would have come out of the encounter alive, and left behind something for them to trace. It was a long shot, but they had no other choice.

"Hold it!" Ratchet came to a grinding halt. Arcee swung around, coming to rest facing Ratchet.

"What is it? Is it Wheeljack?"

"No, it's not Wheeljack. I'm picking up something faint about 5 clicks southeast. It's extremely weak, but it's definitely of Decepticon origin."

"It has to be Wheeljack."

"I hope so." Engines rumbling, the pair altered their course, following the energy transmissions Ratchet was picking up. It led them down a long, winding road completely in the opposite direction of the city and into a sizable, remote greenbelt. The road eventually turned into washed out gravel, and moving along they finally came out onto a clearing. Arcee stopped suddenly, transforming. She walked slowly forward, looking around grimly.

"Scrap..." Her cursive was abnormally audible over the silent war zone they had walked into. Behind her, Ratchet cycled air heavily, a heavy weight settling over his Spark.

"It's a good thing we left Allison behind..." Ratchet said, transforming and he immediately began to scan the area. There was definitely a residual energy from a Decepticon here, but it was weak and deteriorating fast; likely a plasma discharge from a weapon, but either way, it was clear that something serious had happened here. There was still no active sign of Autobot life. Thinking of Allison all alone, and unconscious back at their makeshift base was making Ratchet's Spark throb uncomfortably in his chest. Arcee turned to him, hand across her own chest with a prolonged look a sympathetic understanding.

Looking around, Ratchet directed his scans towards the most notable piece of destruction and moved towards it, narrowing his focus to the immediate range in front of him.

There might have been a building there, but if there was, the only thing left was a massive pile of rubble and upturned vegetation. Bits of metal and rock were still smoldering here and there, remaining vapors of steam sending whiffs of debris into the air obscuring most of the scene from view. There was shattered glass on the ground, twinkling tauntingly in the light of their searching. Blackened, twisted trees broke up the gaping void like gnarled hands reaching up into the night. Where the building hadn't been completely obliterated by whatever had passed through (and Ratchet had a decent idea as to what had happened) giant concrete slabs lay strewn about as if the wall had merely fallen in a giant heap. It was dirty. There was a hazy, acrid fog in the air, and a small fire burned nearby. Ratchet cycled air grimly.

"I'll start looking over there," Ratchet frowned, eying the wreckage. "You check up here."

"Right… I'm still not picking anything up..." was Arcee's mumbled reply as she began searching the area, moving away from him.

"No," was Ratchet's only word, and whether or not the simple, seemingly unrelated response was a matter of being blunt, or just realistic, he would never know why it left his vocal processors. So far, there was no real reason to be optimistic. Slowly Ratchet made his way through the remains of the building, climbing up and over the rubble to optically scan things over. Arcee was picking her way through the sparse forest and vegetation along the outskirts of the perimeter. He could hear her moving around, but he was more focused on finding his insufferable friend, or pieces of him, amidst the ruins of whatever battle had transpired. He started turning things over, pushing bits of the building over and to the side to see if there were any signs of Wheeljack underneath. It didn't take long, and almost simultaneously, he heard Arcee call to him from somewhere behind.

"I found him Ratchet."

"So did I…" his response was grim, but he knelt down, and quickly scanned the still, seemingly lifeless form of Wheeljack before Arcee made it to him over the debris. Glancing up quickly, he saw that she was holding an arm cradled in her own, large and dirtied grey with damage and torn open in places to expose the circuitry within. Obviously limp, it had been torn ragged from the shoulder joint, which after scanning Wheeljack's body over, had been his right. Taking a second look, it was clear from the discharged, ripped and charred weapon on the Autobot's shoulder what had caused it

"Look…" Ratchet said pointing. "Idiot must have fired it at close range… which also means he'd been desperate… but that doesn't explain the extent of the damage here…" he trailed off into a mumble, and continued his internal diagnostics of Wheeljack's body. There were various breach points in his armor with varying degrees of distress to the wiring underneath, and singed places where he'd taken blaster fire. That didn't even include the dents and scratches that covered just about every other inch of his body. The panel on the right side of his head was cracked, and at just about every damage point Energon was leaking generously into little pools in the rubble. There was a lot of work to be done, but he was alive, and that was reason to be hopeful.

Wheeljack's optics were shuttered and dim, but Ratchet could sense the faintest pulse of his Spark beneath his chest. He bent over, and found the hidden, complicated mechanism that would allow access to the Spark chamber. First, that needed to be stabilized, for if that was not under control nothing else would repair properly.

Wheeljack's chest opened slowly, in a complicated pattern of moving body pieces to rival the most secure vault ever conceived. His Spark was shining, albeit dimly, but it spun slowly in its methodical pulse, clinging to existence and keeping the battered Autobot alive. This he had to protect, and immediately Ratchet went to work, stabilizing and reinforcing wiring where they'd come loose, re-routing connections to redirect power flow to places that were not significantly damaged. Arcee was peering at him with nervous interest, still clinging to the severed arm like it would fly away if she dared let go. Something sparked from Wheeljack's torn shoulder, and Ratchet cursed audibly.

"I can't believe he's still alive, that's incredible..." Arcee whispered, trying to break the silence. She knelt as if to get a closer look.

"Yes, but we're going to lose him if I don't do something quick. He's sustained a heavy amount of damage. Frankly I'm surprised to see he's still online at all." Ratchet said, connecting another bit of wiring to an intact transfer node. There was a short flare of Wheeljack's Spark, a surging pulse of energy that made Ratchet freeze. A second later the brief flare up stabilized to a much calmer hue, but stronger than when he'd first found him.

Satisfied with the temporary wiring, Ratchet went to work welding some of the damaged casing back together to protect Wheeljack's delicate internal systems from Spark radiation. It was a good thing Wheeljack was unconscious, because if he hadn't been, there would have been a screaming and writhing in pain the likes of which Earth, or Cybertron for that matter, had ever seen.

"I notice he's made a few alterations to his spark chamber..." Ratchet said pointedly, taking note that it was making his job that much more difficult than it should have been.

"What kind of alterations?" Arcee was notably surprised, as tampering of any kind to the Spark chamber was reckless, and extremely dangerous in that it had a very high percentage of being lethal. Clearly that had not scared Wheeljack.

"He's thickened the wall lining and put in some kind of blast shield, which, I might add, is making it slagging hard to weld the casing back together..." the difficulty was heightened by the fact that leaked Energon had somehow managed to pool in all the cracks. It wasn't dangerous to the Spark, but it made things slippery and hard to grip, and caused the welding to take that much longer to set properly. "Even the slightest, inadvertent damage to his spark casing could have killed him. Though, I guess for all intents and purposes now, we might as well thank Primus that he did. Look," he said, pointing into Wheeljack's chest for Arcee to see what he was referring to. "...Part of the casing's melted away. If it hadn't been for the reinforcements, it would have completely disintegrated."

"He probably did it because of his experiments." Arcee ventured. It had never been a secret that Wheeljack's laboratory had always been exciting, if not, an extreme fire hazard.

"Probably... That said, I think there's something else keeping him alive right now..." Ratchet said, continuing with his work. He was almost satisfied, but there was still the matter of Wheeljack's lack of consciousness, which would make transporting him very difficult. Forcing transformation was something that had always been frowned upon as an immense violation... but they weren't on Cybertron... and right now they had no other alternatives. They couldn't leave Wheeljack here out in the open. It wasn't safe, and the barn was at least shielded. There was also the matter of Allison...

Arcee was peering at him with understanding, her optics narrowed thoughtfully. Ratchet tapped his own chest.

"His Sparkbond saved his life."

Arcee nodded, but her aura of comprehension soon turned to confusion. "I don't understand how that's possible... with a human."

Ratchet sighed. "You'll learn soon enough that humans are easy to underestimate, yes, but they will defy those expectations very quickly. His bond to Allison is likely what kept his Spark ignited. I can't tell you why, but we will never truly understand the mysteries of our own Sparks..."

"Yes..." Arcee mumbled, looking down at Wheeljack sadly. "What's the final diagnosis then?"

"I think I might have been able to minimize the extent that his external damage caused to his Spark chamber. The other wounds look purely superficial, thankfully, as I'm not detecting any severe internal system failure. But, we need to get him back and put into deep stasis as soon as possible, or we risk him going offline for good. Even then, I'm... just not sure yet."

Wheeljack must have heard, because at that moment his optics suddenly flared up, vividly alive and surprisingly alert. His whole body jerked in reaction to his final moments before losing consciousness, and he sat bolt upright. The lack of his right arm caused him to flail awkwardly and off balance, falling sharply to the left and hitting Ratchet's outstretched arm for support. Wheeljack paused, seeming to process his surroundings as Arcee and Ratchet watched him partially horrified.

"How odd..." he murmured to no one in particular. Arcee looked at him dumbfounded, but Ratchet thought, he almost would have preferred being somewhere else.

"Odd? Primus, Wheeljack you look like Unicron himself just smashed you into the ground. Take it easy Autobot you're severely damaged!" Ratchet tried to get Wheeljack to lie down, but the engineer was more interested in Arcee, seeing her for the first time.

"Arcee? Well this is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you on Earth. When... did you get..." Wheeljack was looking around absently, the remains of his right shoulder flexing oddly as he stared at it, unsure of what he was seeing. "Slag, that arms never been the same since the Delta Axion experiment..." he trailed off, seemingly talking to himself. "When did you get here, Arcee? Ah!" Wheeljack spotted his arm in Arcee's grasp, and reached for it. Ratchet intercepted and took it instead, scowling at the engineer who was still making daring grabs for his own arm.

Wheeljack turned to him questioningly. "And Ratchet..." he muttered. "I take it you've been alive and kicking this entire time?" The anger briefly pulsed in Wheeljack's eyes as they looked at each other. Ratchet blinked first.

"I'm not ready for the scrap heap yet. Arcee arrived a few hours ago, and frankly it was a coincidence that ended up being very lucky for us... you see... Allison-" Wheeljack suddenly went rigid, his whole body jerking either from pain, or the brutal shock of remembering what had just transpired. Immediately he started thrashing, trying to get back to his feet. "Wheeljack you're in pieces!"

"He knows where she is Ratchet, that fragger knows... and I almost had... almost..." Wheeljack's flailing was pathetic in technique but his resilience was clearly strong enough to keep Ratchet at bay, who was trying to keep him still. "Would you knock it off Ratchet I've been in worse shape than this!"

"Wheeljack!" Ratchet's temper exploded like a small volcano. He grabbed both of the engineer's shoulders, and gripped hard. "Stop thrashing around you're going to damage yourself more than you already are, NOW!"

"I almost had him, that fragger Soundwave was almost dead, but he got something... I don't know if he gleaned it from me, but I saw it in that scum's optics that he knew... I don't know how he tracked her... but he blasted me with that slagging pulse cannon and I..." Ratchet could only listen and put that piece of the mystery together. Soundwave's pulse canon was powerful, and often times lethal. That explained the obliteration of the battlefield, and knowing that, Wheeljack was damn lucky to still be alive.

"That would explain Rumble and Ravage at the building..."Arcee interjected hurriedly, and Ratchet shot her a fierce glare to shut her up, but the blunder had already been made. This incited an incoherent babbling from Wheeljack who flailed. Ratchet was nearly knocked aside by Wheeljack's one errant arm that was doing an admirable job trying to pry him off.

"Wheeljack you brainless idiot she's fine! Don't be such an sparkling.. now hold STILL-"

"Where is Allison?" Wheeljack clearly wasn't listening, his head darting around as if expecting the human to be waiting around for them. It was a pathetic sight to behold, and Ratchet was actually quite bothered by such an insane display of processor instability. Wheeljack had never been like this, ever.

"I found her Wheeljack, she's resting... she's back at your barn..." Arcee cooed, doing in one second what Ratchet had failed to do for the long agonizing minutes that Wheeljack was clearly in a state of panic. With one hand she touched Wheeljack's head. He seemed to calm, his body finally resting into a weak stupor, but his optics were still shifting nervously. Arcee glanced at Ratchet worriedly, and they both exchanged a wordless confirmation that Wheeljack was likely far more damaged than he appeared to be. It wasn't possible for a bond to be this crippling.

"He's in shock..." Ratchet offered privately to Arcee over their shared com link. "Although he definitely seems greatly attached to her, what we just saw definitely isn't normal. We need to get him into stasis, now..." Arcee nodded her understanding and looked at Wheeljack.

"Think you're up for a ride, Mister Jack?"

Wheeljack shifted again, and with minimal thrashing, and help from the other two Autobots, he managed to stumble to a stand. Ratchet noted he was favoring his left leg, something he stored away and would re-investigate later, once they were safe.

"Yes... I think I can. Been worse for wear I'm afraid... this is... nothing..." Wheeljack was clearly bluffing, but Ratchet knew that Arcee was aware of Wheeljack's prideful shortcomings, so they both let it slide. They merely nodded in feigned agreement and assisted Wheeljack with the journey out of the wreckage and back onto solid ground. Wheeljack wavered, but otherwise managed to stand on his own without support. Ratchet took Wheeljack's detached arm and activated a hidden safety pull, immediately collapsing it into a transportable cube, which he stowed away for safekeeping until they were back at the barn. Wheeljack had begun babbling again, strangely energetic.

"So Arcee... do tell me, what brings you to this tiny little planet in the vast Milky Way?" he chirped, and Arcee smiled, ignoring Ratchet's irritated scowl as she focused her attention on Wheeljack.

"Well 'Jack, I-"

Arcee never got the chance to finish her sentence, when they were all interrupted as a thunderous roar erupted from above, followed by a shrill wine. A jet engine. Not a second later a military aircraft burst over the tree line, spinning in an erratic curve as it disappeared into the distance. Starscream clearly knew they were there, but he did not swing back around. He was taunting them. The noise of the Decepticon receded into the direction of his departure, back towards the way they'd come. Back towards the barn.

"I'm on it." Arcee said quickly, and in a flash she'd transformed and was tearing away before there could be any words or protest from the other two. Ratchet quickly finished his final touches on Wheeljack's spark chamber before shuttering it with a loud clatter of moving parts. Wheeljack swayed for a beat, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. Given that he wasn't in a delusional panic over the fact that Starscream was likely heading towards Allison, and presumably Soundwave was as well, only further hit home the fact that Wheeljack was direly injured and needed urgent stasis lock.

"My, she is impulsive isn't she?" Wheeljack muttered carelessly, trying in vain to take a few steps forward before Ratchet grabbed his arm. He'd always been one of his worse patients, further troublesome due to his inability to actually admit when he needed medical intervention. Ratchet scowled, pointing a finger at him.

"What, like yourself you mean? At least she has common sense to match her brains, unlike yourself."

"I have plenty of common sense," argued Wheeljack. "But sometimes you have to act on instinct."

"Don't talk to me about instinct. In fact don't talk to me at all. Your only expending precious energy." Ratchet hesitated, trying to run through his final scans of Wheeljack's systems just to ensure the Autobot would survive any sort of trip at all. He seemed relatively stable, but Ratchet knew that wouldn't last long.

"Where are we going?" Wheeljack finally interjected, seeming to hang off of Ratchet's arm like he was drunk on high-grade Energon. "Are we going back to my barn?" he blinked up at the medic, optics swimming with barely focused control

"Don't be ridiculous. The barn's been compromised, we can't go back there." Ratchet scoffed, trying to hold Wheeljack up. The engineer was just a little bit bigger than he was, but it was enough of a size difference for his weight to be a physical burden.

"But... I have... equipment there!" Wheeljack complained, but Ratchet knew he didn't care one bit about whatever "equipment" he had stashed there. As far as he could tell, it had all been junk anyway, but Wheeljack's processors were clearly on the fritz.

"We'll salvage what's left when we have time later," Ratchet grumbled, humoring him, knowing full well there probably wouldn't be anything left to salvage at all. The Decepticons weren't known for sparing anything that could possibly be of any use to anyone but themselves. Ratchet quickly processed the plan in his mind. When he had met up with Arcee earlier, the first thing that had determined was a rendezvous point should they be separated. Something Wheeljack had neglected to do before running off to get beaten up.

"Can you transform, or do I have to carry your aft all the way to our meeting point?"

Wheeljack wordlessly rattled to the ground, shakily managing to transform into a believable representation of the Mustang despite his missing arm. As long as nobody looked too closely, it wouldn't have been noticed, but the gap was inescapable to Ratchet's trained eye. To a human, it would just look like damage near the rear of the car. Wheeljack slowly moved forward, then as if a sudden bout of clarity had decided to smack him across the head, he blurted,

"A-Allison..." and before Ratchet could stop him he surged forward, driving away. Ratchet swore and quickly transformed, moving as soon as all four wheels touched the ground. It was a damn good thing Wheeljack was damaged to the point the Autobot couldn't drive as well as he normally could, or it would be nigh on impossible to catch him. He may be a scientist first, but Wheeljack was also an incredible driver, with almost unmatched speed and agility. Ratchet drove alongside him, maneuvering as close as he could to the point his doors almost scraped alongside the erratic Autobot's.

"Wheeljack, you don't even know where it is we're going!"

"To Allison!" he shouted with shocking clarity in his purpose.

"I told you we can't go back. Besides, Allison won't be there anyway. With any luck Arcee has taken her somewhere safe." He feigned, despite the real worry that plagued him, and that was whether or not what he was saying was actually true. Allison would have no idea what was going on, and the Decepticons would crush her before she even woke up if they managed to find her. Wheeljack's shielding of the barn would hold, but not for long. Eventually one of Soundwave's Minicons would find a way in, and all they could do was hope that Arcee wasn't too late. She would be Allison's only real chance right now, and despite his own dire concerns for the femme, he knew that holding her back was not an option.

Both of these things, kept the medic in a mild state of internal panic as his Spark churned angrily in his chest. This, despite his very real fear, was something he did not communicate to Wheeljack. What he had to do, was focus on the immediate issue at hand, and that was his patient. There was no way Wheeljack would survive another fight, so right now he needed all of Ratchet's attention and it was a needed distraction from Arcee's and Allison's fate.

"Then tell me where we're going." Wheeljack said, shockingly calm. Wheeljack held back a second long enough to allow Ratchet to surge forward, still careful to stay near him in case something should happen.

"There's a water treatment facility just north of here. It's old and unmanned, we'll be safe there." Ratchet replied, reciting the plan he and Arcee had made together over in his head. It would have to do for now.


	30. Escape

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
**

**Also, I've chosen to just stick with the G1 color schemes of Rumble and Frenzy, seeing as I think it fits how I've portrayed their personalities a little more. I'm aware of the weird coloring discrepancies between G1 and the toys, but to make life easier on myself (despite having a little red and black Rumble sitting above my computer staring at me), I'm not even going to deal with that. So as far as this story is concerned. Rumble=blue, Frenzy=red. **

**As for how I've portrayed Frenzy, it's not exactly canon, but I wanted to differentiate between the two of them. I'd seen a panel from a comic (can't remember if it was IDW or Dreamwave) that made me interpret him this way, so it is what it is. Enjoy.**

**I don't own any of these characters etc etc.**

* * *

Allison woke with a start, leaping up with readiness for whatever tortures Ratchet had in store for her. She sat up, extending her arms up to fight him off, but when there came no words of scolding or, any action at all for that matter, Allison paused. Looking around, she was surprised to find that she was alone and the room completely empty and quiet. That was of course, except for Bean, who was sitting quite comfortable in her lap peering up at her with big yellow eyes. The next thing she noticed, was that her hand ached, badly, and it hit her as soon as she managed to get her bearings with the waking world.

Gritting her teeth and fearing the worst, she looked at her hand, and was surprised to find it neatly and expertly bandaged. She examined the wrappings with a sense of perplexed wonderment, and suddenly felt an immense respect for Ratchet. Even after all the hell she'd put him through, he'd tended to her hand regardless of whether or not he actually cared about her, which was something she'd always questioned. Allison didn't know exactly what he'd done, but the nagging, aching sting that laced across her palm and up her lower arm gave her a pretty good idea that he'd likely cauterized the gash, then had done whatever to close it. She didn't dare remove the dressings, so she left it, cradling her hand in the crook of her other elbow. His methodology of knocking her out was questionable, but the least he could have done was leave her with some kind of pain killer. Until he returned, she'd have to live with it.

The returning realization that he was gone sent a sudden lance of panic through her. Bean didn't seem to be alarmed, and was actually quite content curled in her lap. But Ratchet, and the newcomer Arcee had left. She could only assume that they'd gone to find Wheeljack, and there had likely been a reason they hadn't taken her with them. They probably didn't know if they'd find Wheeljack alive or not.

Allison started to get up and maneuver herself off the table, but at Bean's cries of protest that was clearly something she was not supposed to do. The little robot dug its fore claws into her shoulders, latching onto her chest as if trying to push her back down. Allison wondered in irritation if Ratchet had told Bean not to let her move. It certainly seemed like something Ratchet would say, but she didn't feel like staying put. She was restless with worry over Wheeljack, and the hopelessness that he was hurt, or dead, was nagging at her insistently. Bean looked just as restless too, and her attempts to push Allison down quickly turned into a panicked scrambling of her legs as if she'd simply float away if she even dared try to get to her feet. Allison tried to shoo Bean away, starting to get annoyed with the little robot.

"Alright, alright, knock it off already I won't go anywhere..." That didn't seem to deter Bean, who was squeaking insistently. "What?" Allison leaned back on her elbows, closing her eyes to try and will away the pain in her hand. It throbbed uncomfortably, and her awareness of it being there was starting to give her an unfocused headache behind the eyes. Bean's high-pitched electronic squeaking wasn't helping matters.

Bean sat on her, moving up closer towards her chest and stared. This was both unnerving in that Bean's little feet weren't exactly delicate, and Allison hadn't really stared at the little robot's face this close for an extended period of time before. What appeared to be a tiny dip for a mouth was covered in mesh-like material resembling the outside of a speaker, flanked by tiny little mandibles. Bean's eyes were not simply single globules of light, but were filled with little glowing diodes of varying oranges and yellows, seeming to shift their hues as they moved. It was quite a dazzling display, but after a moment Allison realized that Bean wasn't staring at her; she was staring past her.

"What? What is it little one?" Allison whispered. "Who's there?" Tensing, Allison tried to tilt her head backwards, slowly, casting her gaze up in the direction that Bean was looking. Up high, there was a series of small pipes and ducts, way too small for anything to be inside, but maybe there was something else. "Can you hear something? Is something up there?" Allison realized why Bean was holding her down. She was trying to protect her by keeping her still. Allison strained her own ears, but could hear nothing.

Then the thudding started. It sounded at first like furniture being moved across the floor. But it was constant, and regular, like a slow drum beat. It was too deliberate to be nothing.

Oh shit.

A sharp tingle of fear ripped through her body. Now, she couldn't have moved if she wanted too. She was frozen on the spot, her mind running through all her possible plans of escape before she realized that she had none. This room was a dead end, so she was effectively trapped. Could it be one of the Autobots? Of course... but why would they stomp around upstairs? It too hesitant, but with purpose, like whoever was up there was definitely looking for something.

The thudding stopped. Allison didn't dare move, afraid that even the slightest hint of motion or sound would very likely give away where she was. All she could do was hope that Wheeljack's shielding would be sufficient to keep whoever it was away, but the more pessimistic piece of her rationale was telling her that was ludicrous. She was just brave enough to let her eyes quickly wander the room, looking for any piece of equipment she could use as a weapon. A lot of it was just sheets of metal, impractical, but there were various car bits and machinery thrown around the corners.

Allison's eyes rested on one of the piles in the corner, where there was what looked like a rusted metal pipe wedged beneath a partially deconstructed engine. Glancing back at Bean, who was still staring in the direction of the faded noise, she blew a little puff of air at her face to get her attention. Bean's eyes shifted towards her, and Allison inclined her head towards the corner, nodding at the little robot hoping that she would understand her intentions. She was a sitting duck on top of the table, so at this point she thought she had no choice.

Bean obviously understood this, and silently crawled off her chest and back onto the table top, remarkably without any noise. Allison quietly scooted towards the edge of the wide worktable, peering down to get a sense of where she was. Swallowing nervously, she realized the table was a lot higher up than it looked, and she didn't know how she was going to manage to get down without making a sound. But it was now or never, and the fact that the noise wasn't occurring anymore, only encouraged her to move. If they weren't searching, that could mean that they actually found something, and it was only a matter of time before they found their way in.

Silently, Allison grabbed her bag which had been laid down beside her, and as quietly as she could slid it over her head and across her shoulder. Gripping the side of the table, she managed to slide her legs over the side. This was made difficult by her bandaged hand, and her grip on the edge slipped as she went over. She managed to compensate in time and land on her feet, bending her knees to try and absorb the impact. There was more noise than she would have liked, but at this point there was no turning back. She was on the ground and exposed, but given the size of Rumble, and the assumption that Ravage was pretty good at jumping, she doubted she'd been any safer on higher ground. At least she had more mobility on the floor.

Pausing, straining her ears for any change in the environmental noise, Allison heard no response from above to her activity. She quickly moved to the pile and scanned it again with her eyes for anything better she could use, but it was hard to make sense out of the jagged, misshapen chunks of metal. She grabbed the end of the pole and pulled, freezing with terror as bits of the pile shifted noisily with the disturbance. This time, there was a response from above.

It sounded like something was being dragged across the floor, originating from just above her crumpled pile of bedding still on the ground, and quickly moving towards the portion of the ceiling just above the ramp; the entryway. Finally the noise stopped, seeming to pause just where she knew there was a pile of inconspicuous trash, and immediately she knew that wasn't a good sign.

There was a crash, quickly followed by a howl of rendering metal and sparks as that whole portion of the ceiling gave way with a thunderous crunch that bounced off the walls. Allison grabbed the pipe and yanked it free, running back to the table in the center of the room to hide out of view. Heart thundering its pulse in her ear, she tried desperately to control her breathing as she strained to hear what was going on from the other side. For a moment there was pure silence as pieces of the ceiling and trash above finished settling on the ground, skidding down the ramp to the floor beneath. Clutching the flimsy pipe in her hands, she hoped to God that her damaged hand wouldn't fail her now and cause her to hesitate. Whatever was up there, certainly wasn't an Autobot.

There was a clicking sound, like the steps of clawed feet hitting the ground, and immediately Allison knew it was Ravage. Apparently she had not injured it enough to keep it from getting back up, and if it was in good enough condition to seek her out, it probably wasn't pleased. There was a growl, and she heard the soft shifting of moving parts as the steps leveled and moved closer. It was searching, and any second now she was going to be found. Allison was having serious misgivings that she'd get as lucky fighting Ravage as she had been before, because the Decepticon she wagered would not be fooled in the same manner more than once. This time it would anticipate her attempts to fight back and would have calculated its counter-attacks accordingly. She was having a hard time forcing herself to move at all, tensed to the point that her brain was attempting to persuade her that it was safer to stay put. That however she knew wasn't true, and if she didn't move she'd be caught, or worse.

There was an angry shriek from above that finally made her move, jumping, as she heard Bean clatter off the table and off to the other side. Presumably this was where Ravage had briefly paused, likely startled by this sudden intrusion. There was a blood-chilling snarl, then the uproar of the battle began.

Knowing that this was her only chance and that Bean was buying her time, Allison knew she had to move. She didn't want to leave Bean, knowing that Ravage would more than likely tear the little drone apart in no time at all. A few possibilities ran through her head, all of them poor, but if she wanted to survive and save Bean, she had to use this distraction to her advantage. Of course, it would only take a well-timed jump from the feline Decepticon to pin her down, and then it would all be over. She'd have to get the drop on Ravage.

Allison slowly edged closer to the corner of the table. Gathering enough courage, she slowly peered around it, and was shocked with what she saw. Bean had latched herself tightly onto the Decepticon's muzzle. Six of her legs were wrapped around Ravage's mouth, clamping it shut. Her two forward-facing pincers were repeatedly jabbing at the creature in the eyes and ears, sending out little sparks of static. It clearly wasn't doing any real damage, but it was enraging the Decepticon enough to keep it distracted. She was also hissing like an angry cat, a distorted warble of a sound that was extremely frightening and shocking to hear from such a normally docile creature. Two little needles were protruding from Bean's shoulder plates, letting off little jets of light that bounced off the Decepticon's hide, leaving little pits and scorch marks against the cat's pristine plating. Ravage was pawing madly at its face, and trying to rub against the ground in a vain attempt to remove the annoyance.

Allison watched with amazement, a surge of pride running through her as she saw her companion fighting valiantly to save her life. The feeling was quickly replaced by one of horror, as Ravage managed to wrap his teeth around one of Bean's flailing limbs. Crunching into the metal, Bean sent out a shrill call of pain. Ravage finally succeeded in throwing Bean off its face and onto the ground, where it slammed a massive paw onto Bean's belly with a low growl of murderous intent.

As much as fear had kept her planted behind the makeshift worktable, the sight of Bean fighting such a mismatched battle for her sake caused a ripple of anger to run through her. Without thinking, she gripped the pipe tighter and ran out from her cover screaming. Her own voice filled her ears, and Ravage turned its head quickly in surprise just as Allison brought the pipe down across the side of its damaged face. What was left of its optical socket exploded, and the already weakened red lens of its eye smashed beneath the pipe. Ravage emitted the most blood-curdling scream that Allison had ever thought was possible, and immediately she dropped the pipe to cover her ears, panic sending her stumbling up the ramp. It wasn't over, there would be something else out there waiting, but adrenaline had taken over and she had nowhere else to go.

There was never a blow from behind as she stumbled up the ramp, not even sure where she was going. Maybe there was somewhere to hide up above, or, she could get out one of the windows and hopefully evade who else was surely out there. Perhaps the most terrifying realization, was that it could only be Soundwave lurking outside, most assuredly waiting for her to blunder out into the open. She had to avoid him, or at least figure out how. She was surprised to see Bean shoot past her, then expertly spin around in one fluid motion and leap onto her chest. Bean was chittering angrily, the weight of the little robot sending her reeling to the side with the recoil of such surprising force. Bean clawed at her shirt, almost psychotically as if the little creature had suddenly turned on her, but the robot was trying to keep her from running out into the open. There was no further moment to possibly consider that, for no sooner had she hit level ground before slamming unforgivably into something massive and solid.

Bean was crunched against her chest with an undignified squeal as Allison yelped in pain, flying back with the force of the blow just as soon as it occurred. Immediately she felt an immense tug at her shirt as something yanked her back forward, Bean simultaneously thrown violently to the side. The shocking grip transferred to her neck before she even had a second of reorientation, and she was hoisted into the air gagging as she found herself face to face with searing crimson eyes. Allison was unable to speak as the air was forced out of her throat. Clawing at the massive hand around her throat and jaw, she struggled to pull the fingers away from her skin, but the grip was too tight. All she could do was stare in horror at the Decepticon Rumble, who had her right at eye level. He was grinning like a shark.

"Hi there," he giggled. "Yer not very good at hide-and-seek, are ya?" There was a sudden squeeze around her neck as he tightened his grip, and she choked out a breathless whimper. He dropped her suddenly to the floor with a bark of laughter, and the height was shocking as she hit the ground, knees buckling as she crumpled. Almost immediately she was scrambling back up and away from Rumble, coughing with the sudden freedom of air. She found herself running towards the far corner near one of the windows. Allison no longer knew what she was doing, letting her body and baser instincts take over to pull her in presumably the right direction. She fell against a table in the dark, her hands finding the same hammer she'd wielded against Wheeljack weeks ago, and she grasped it with no other thought for what to do.

Turning, she saw the glow of Rumble's eyes as he turned to face her, tilting his head as if her terrified defiance was a mere curiosity. Allison spun and found the window, clawing at the paper to tear it off with the hope to fight her way outside. There was an annoyed huff from behind, then the thick tremor of footsteps as Rumble lost interest with merely watching. Spinning back around, she brandished the hammer blindly as she pressed herself against the wall, eyes darting around for some kind of way out. The window was too high... if she tried to climb out he'd pull her back, easily, there had to be another way...

There was a sound from above, a rustle, which then blossomed into full on destruction as pieces of wood and dust rained on her from above. It was a crunching, grinding noise, soon overpowered by a high-pitched shriek of laughter. Looking up, squinting against the debris she saw two glowing points of red materialize from the darkness above. As it moved into the dim light cast from the moon outside, she could see that whatever this was, looked remarkable like Rumble, but smaller, colored in much deeper tones of red and midnight black. This one seemed to twitch every time it moved, crawling down the wall towards her like a spider coming down its web. Except spiders did not have drills for arms, and this Decepticon was using them to dig grips into the wall as it moved closer. Each shuddering lurch forward sent tremors through the wall, the spinning drills shrieking against the shredding material of the building. Its face was contorted into a demonic, childish smile as its vertical crawl brought it closer, giggling-

Oh, hell no...

Allison darted to the side, feeling like a herded sheep as a sick cackling floated up from behind her, followed by a delighted squeal from Rumble as he launched after her. Allison wasn't fast enough. There was a brief moment of pathetic surrender as Rumble caught her, scooping her up by the waist with his arm. He was laughing at her like a schoolyard bully about to pluck the legs off a bug and all she could do was flail weakly against him, too exhausted and overwhelmed to do more than make flimsy attempts with her arms and legs to wriggle out of his grasp. The shattering whir of the drill Decepticon finally came to the ground, and all Allison could see through her blurred eyes was the crouched shape of Rumble Number Two as he stood, hunched over, twitching erratically.

"Let me play with the fleshy first!" he chattered, with a voice that was much higher and grating than Rumble's, almost like a person high on some kind of stimulant drug. He was bouncing forward, waving the drills around which were still spinning, terrifyingly loud in Allison's ears. Unwillingly she was shrinking back against Rumble, still kicking and trying to break free, but he was the lesser of two evils. This red and black one was simply deranged.

"Nuh uh... not until Soundwave is done with her!" Rumble replied, and it almost came out like he was scolding a younger sibling. Rumble turned, and started moving towards the block of glow that was the doorway, the heavy tarp moving sullenly against the outside air.

"No!" Allison cried, trying to punch at Rumble's arm, and break free. She did not want to be near Soundwave, in fact, she would rather be dead than have that massive behemoth touch her. But she had no choice as Rumble broke free of the tarp that separated the inside from the outdoors. These would be her final moments, and all she could think and feel... was anger. Anger at Ratchet and Arcee for leaving her. Angry at Wheeljack for his stupid, brainless plan. It hadn't worked, and they would all pay. It had never occurred to her, or had even crossed her mind how she would potentially go, but Allison had never been more certain of anything in her entire life. They were going to murder her, take joy from it, and all she could do now was hope that there was still a chance that Ratchet or Arcee would come back before she was dead.

Allison was thrown forward as Rumble got a grip on her back and pushed, releasing his arm from her waist. She hit the grass, which felt oddly cool and soft underneath her hands, but it was feeble comfort. She didn't dare look up, knowing what she would see. She could sense Soundwave somewhere in front of her, staring holes into her back. Lying there, she could feel and suffer all the pains and aches in her body: her hand screaming, her neck aching with the onset of the bruising that was sure to come, and her waist hurt from where Rumble had held her. That was just the tip of the iceberg, the places that cried out the most for her attention.

"We gots the little flesh bag for ya. She gave us a bit of a run around, but we gots her. And I can tell ya we oughta get a medal from Megatron for the slag we put up with chasing her around, 'cus there was this pink one with a gun and she-"

Allison could hear movement above, then a brief flash followed by a yelp from Rumble. That was met with a fit of giggling from the re-colored Rumble somewhere behind him. She could hear him stomping around, cursing, then out of nowhere she heard something that made her heart stop.

"Banter intolerable."

It was the first time she'd ever heard Soundwave speak, and she wouldn't care if she never heard it again. It was cold, emotionless, and boomed from above like an amplified demon pulled through a synthesizer until all traces of life had been ripped from it. It held no warmth, or humanity, like the subtle humor in Wheeljack's voice, or even the crass sarcasm of Ratchet. This was a machine that felt nothing, and cared for nothing but what it needed or wanted to do. But this fear also compelled Allison to move, and slowly, she pulled herself up to her knees, still not daring to look up for fear of what she would see. Even though she knew the reality, it was a far different matter to stare it straight in the eyes. But when she heard as much as felt Soundwave start to move towards her, she could feel the malice radiating off of him like a sickness. Allison couldn't stop herself from looking, and she was immediately lost in that emotionless, calculating gaze as he came forward, raising one finger towards her.

"Rumble, Frenzy, commence Operation: Incarceration. Prepare for interrogation."

Allison finally got to her feet and stepped back to get away. Perhaps hearing his intentions laid out so matter-of-factly was what shocked her the most, and it made her stomach lurch with fear. Stumbling back, she unwittingly hit Rumble, who responded by gripping her shoulders, locking her on the spot. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp but his grip held, digging painful pits into her shoulders. But she couldn't give up. If she did, she knew Soundwave would kill her for sure. It was hard to know what her body was doing, being so lost in his calculating stare as he stepped forward to grab her. Allison knew that her life would end staring this monster in the face, being the last thing she ever saw before he ripped her apart. It had to be the most terrible way to die,  
but the situation suddenly became astronomically worse.

There was a crunch from above on the roof of the building, and Allison turned just in time to see a new horror: the crouched, lithe form of Starscream as he hunched forward. Surveying the scene, he focused his eyes on Allison, and a sly grin spread across his face before he turned, inclining his head to Soundwave.

"How boring. Wouldn't you rather just play with her first?" he said silkily, gripping the edges of the roof sending bits of decayed wood to the ground. He seemed to yawn. "Isn't Soundwave boring, Allison? Here he is with a brand new toy to play with and all he can do is stare at it."

Starscream's fiery eyes marked her, seeming to regard her up and down with patronizing interest. She swallowed hard, unable to respond and unsure if he even meant her to. But his questionable gaze on her suggested something else, and he gazed at her with a tilt of his head. Allison bit her tongue, refusing to speak. For a moment Starscream's eyes blazed with searing light. "Why do you not respond, little fleshling? Are you afraid?"

They were going to kill her anyway. She wasn't going to die giving them the satisfaction of her suffering. But she didn't know how long her bravery was going to hold out, her urgent need to scream slowly chipping away her barriers of defiance.

With a graceful leap, Starscream dropped down from the roof, landing with a heavy thud beside her. His wings stretched out grandly, blocking out the stars in the sky with their magnificence. In other circumstances, it would have been impressive, maybe even beautiful, but this Decepticon was so full of self-importance she would have liked nothing more than to rip those precious wings from his shoulders. Starscream was looking down his noseplates at her with a grin, and that only added fuel to the raging anger inside her that made her want to lash out at him, to fight back, regardless of how pathetic and futile any attempt would be.

Allison glanced at Soundwave to look at anything other than Starscream's disgusting face, and was surprised to see a subtle change in his normally void expression: a brief downward tilt of his head and a slight change in the glare his eyes. It was so brief that it might have gone unnoticed, but compared to his normally stoic countenance it was glaringly obvious. Anger? Annoyance? It disappeared without a second thought as soon as it had emerged, and her eyes widened as Soundwave turned and caught her stare. This unsurprisingly, he did not react to.

"Unnecessary. Interrogate and Elimate," Soundwave's atonal counter wasn't exactly the saving grace she was looking for. Starscream blinked at her, flexing his long slender fingers suggestively.

"Give her to me for three minutes, and I guarantee you she'll tell you everything you want," he crooned, crouching low and bringing his face towards her. Allison tried to turn her head, finally finding some remaining strength to try and break her arms free. Starscream smiled, almost innocently to her as he drew in closer. The energy from his presence rumbled with searing, angry vibrations, and it made her hair stand on end. Reaching out with a long, pointed finger, Allison recoiled back with a whimper as Starscream touched her face, his finger sliding down to trace the pulse of her neck. She shuddered, resisting the urge to vomit as her skin quaked underneath his touch. This seemed to only amuse him. "I'm willing to wager a certain Autobot won't appreciate my hands on you, isn't that right human?" Starscream purred. Rumble actually stepped back, dragging Allison away from him, knowingly not for her benefit, but clearly because Starscream was out of his godamned mind. It was of no comfort, because at that moment Soundwave had stepped forward as if to finally intervene on the jet's audacity.

Allison thought that maybe, she'd been shot, or worse, completely blown apart the next moment as there was an explosion of noise followed by bellowing cries of rage. She was tossed aside as Rumble screeched indignantly, disappearing into a billowing cloud of flying shrapnel from what used to be the wall of the barn. It happened too fast to know what was going on, and all she could hear was the confused shouts of the Decepticons around her, followed by the sudden sensation of thundering steps towards her. Looking up, she only got the barest glimpse of Rumble's red and black brother, presumably Frenzy, as he crawled towards her. He was skittering along the grass on all fours, with the drill tips of his arms tearing up the soil and vegetation as he plodded forward with a twitching, twisted grin. Backing away on her hands, she tried to cover her head as he nearly overtook her, but suddenly the Decepticon was sent flying by something massive and pink that literally kicked him several yards across the grass. Arcee scooped her up before she could say a word, and transformed around her like a shield before shooting off barely a second after touching the ground.

There was an entire minute of mental recuperation where she laid there, stunned and frightened beyond belief, and then realization... that Bean was gone. She'd left her.

That was when Allison lost her mind. She started struggling against the hard, angular surface of Arcee's interior, screaming at Arcee to stop, to go back and get the little drone that had fought to buy her time and save her life. There was no response from Arcee at all, only silence as she surged forward, the powerful thundering of her systems in overdrive drowning out Allison's protests.

They were probably being followed, in fact, Allison knew they were. Arcee was swerving madly, each curve of her alternate form followed by the thunderous boom of something exploding on the ground near her. There was the whine of a jet engine that shot past, followed by a spray of bullets that sailed overhead. But none of this Allison really heard over her pleads to turn back, which had deteriorated into whimpers of defeat.

They hit a tree line, and the blasts died away to retreat back into the night. Allison curled herself into the fetal position, choking as she trembled. Arcee still said nothing, but they continued on. If they were safe for now, again, it wouldn't last long. They weren't going to stop, not until she was dead. It wasn't about the information any more. Somehow it had become personal. The way Starscream had looked at her. He knew. He knew Wheeljack cared for her and he was going to use that to destroy him, if only for his own enjoyment and for the sake of whatever had happened between them so many years ago. It was going to get forced on her now whether she liked it or not, all of Wheeljack's skeletons seeming to fall on top of her like a toxic hail storm.

Suddenly Arcee stopped. There was a moment of perpetual calm as the pulse of the Autobot continued to thrum in Allison's ears. She didn't move, for fear that if she did it would begin all over again. That was when Arcee finally spoke.

"Allison. I'm sorry."

Arcee started to shift, only slightly, as if trying to encourage her to move. Afraid of getting crushed amongst all her moving parts, Allison begrudgingly uncurled herself and stumbled out, running forward on trembling legs. She fell against a tree and promptly retched, despite having nothing in her body to purge. But doubling over, her physical body needing to react to what had just happened in any way it could, freeing herself of the illness her fear had cast upon her. There was no reaction from Arcee somewhere behind her, but Allison was in no mood for obligatory comforts. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to be alone.

Feeling physically weak and completely drained, she finally turned, clinging to the tree for support as she deciphered where they were. They were in the woods, and standing before her was the wide, circular mouth of the remains of a reservoir. The interior disappeared into the pitch-black darkness the further back it receded. There was a small creek of water that snaked its way through, slicing along the ground aimlessly in little rivulets. It looked to be in disrepair, and whether or not it was currently in use she didn't really care. It didn't even look safe.

The dark exterior of the building it was attached to was flanked by rows of blackened tanks that only vaguely caught the moonlight to give the slightest impression of inhabitants. Even if the building was still being used, it was obvious by the cracked, destroyed state of whatever grating had been there that this pipe was abandoned. The way it was torn open could have been what made it obvious, or it could very well have been caused by something large more recently, more specifically-

"Arcee!" Ratchet emerged from the pipe in a hurry, looking more worn out than Allison had ever seen him before. If it was even possible, his eyes were drooped with what could only be lack of rest and perhaps even stress. It was hard to imagine that they were as affected as she was by the Decepticon presence, for by her calculations what she'd been through was akin to literally being dragged through hell and back again. They did this all the time, but their numbers were obviously crippled, and by Ratchet's slumped posture he clearly did not look to be at full capacity. But seeing Ratchet was really no comfort at all, for the worry on his face, making him look even more aged, did not instill any confidence over what they'd found.

For a moment, Allison was almost resentful as Ratchet came out, splashing through the stale creek carelessly as Arcee turned to him with a saddened, sympathetic look. They weren't saying anything to each other, but that didn't necessarily mean a thing. So she ignored them, and instead moved to the task of finding a comfortable place to sit and have a mental meltdown. She felt she deserved that luxury after being grabbed, thrown, suggestively poked, and nearly drilled into the ground by that Minicon that clearly had a few screws loose. But all she could do was kneel down where she was, hugging the tree as if it was a friend; Another organic presence. A presence that wasn't going to knowingly kill her, its symbolic stability being something that she needed to grasp to if she hoped to find any sort of sanity after all this.

There was a firm touch against her and she rebounded against it purely out of uncontrollable instinct. Ratchet quickly drew back looking hesitant as she gaped at him, wide-eyed, finding it take her far too long than she found comfortable to recognize that Ratchet posed no threat to her. He understood this, and remarkably his face rearranged into something more sensitive as a faint tinge of guilt passed over his eyes. Allison realized her mind was giving her delayed responses to the stimuli around her, her recognition of the sensations around her distorted and hard to focus on. Clearly an after-effect of what had just happened, but even though she recognized this lack of clarity, her disjointed comprehension of things were still sluggish at best. Carefully she organized those thoughts into her own recognizable diagnosis: She was in shock.

Ratchet re-offered his hand as a signal for her to come down from the small hill that fell down to the creek. She felt somewhat safe up there, and almost regarded him with fearful mistrust, as if touching the Autobot would somehow send the Decepticons crashing down on them once more. He frowned at her.

"I'm not going to bite you," he muttered, although attempting to keep his voice low to try and be, of all things, sensitive to how she was clearly feeling. Arcee moved forward to intervene, grabbing Ratchet's much bulkier arm.

"Wheeljack wants to see you…" she said, and Ratchet turned to her with a face that was unreadable.

"He doesn't want to see anybody, he's in stasis-"

"You're not helping!" Arcee hissed, interrupting him. Ratchet looked affronted but didn't bother to argue any further, knowing she was right. He stepped back, looking slightly miserable. Allison suddenly felt sorry for him, and wanted to say something or apologize, but was finding it difficult to string a coherent sentence together. Unwillingly she stepped forward, picking her way down the tiny slope carefully as she passed the two Autobots. Looking up at Ratchet, she frowned, but he was staring back at her with intense scrutiny. Ignoring the fact that he was checking her over, she turned to Arcee who motioned for her to go inside. She was resistant to going in there, knowing it was just a dead end and they were making themselves motionless, easy targets. But if Wheeljack was in there, she now wanted to see him. Very badly. If anything that's what her frayed sense of being really needed.

Ratchet moved passed her quickly and disappeared inside, the dim light she could finally see coming from a string of wall lanterns that crawled across the upper edge of the pipe. Most of them were out, but the ones that were still functional cast a fuzzy yellow glow over the open space. It was damp, and the walls were grimy, likely crawling with an assortment of bugs and other unsavory creatures. For a moment sheer revulsion kept her from moving past the mouth as she stared in, taking a moment to see what was inside. What she had thought was a pipe, actually turned out to end about 30 feet towards the back, sloping up into a high concrete ledge where there was a rusted metal door. The light illuminated very little, and much of the space towards the outer edges was covered in thick darkness. When Arcee moved past her towards the back left corner, squinting she could just make out Ratchet's shape as he stooped over something lower to the ground. When he turned his head towards Arcee she could see the flash of his eyes glimmer in the darkness, which briefly illuminated what had captured his attentions. It was Wheeljack.

Allison didn't have the strength to run or say his name as soon as she saw him, but merely fumbled her way inside. She was actually afraid to venture near, for as she moved closer the light offered her a better view of what was going on. Wheeljack was slumped against the wall, his head lolled weightlessly to the side. His legs were splayed out awkwardly as if he'd merely dropped there on the spot in a fit of exhaustion, but what was perhaps the most alarming out of the entire picture was the complete lifelessness of his eyes. They were dimmed to the point of being almost completely blank, partially shuttered so that whatever light would have been emitted was blocked by his lids.

He wasn't moving, or at least, moving of his own accord. His body jerked every other second or so almost giving the impression that he was gasping for air, but there was no sound aside from the dull clacking as pieces of his armor plating collided. Ratchet blocked her view of most of Wheeljack's right side, so she was unable to see the full extent of his state until she was brave enough to go further. As soon as she saw the ragged hole that used to be Wheeljack's arm and shoulder, she whimpered aloud, covering her face with her hands. She couldn't see much, but the light was generous enough to give her an idea of the extent of the damage: severed cables and frayed wiring, offset with jagged pieces of his body where the plating had been forced apart by whatever had done this to him. There was a faint pink-ish glow the glistened dully each time his body jerked, catching the lighted gloom.

"He's only in stasis-lock. He's fine," Ratchet said, without even looking at her. Arcee was perched delicately atop the ledge near the door, watching them silently. Allison decided to take her wise example and stay away, not sure if it was actually safe to be near whatever Ratchet was doing. He was touching the cables and wiring that were coming out of Wheeljack's severed shoulder socket, pinching them like one would connect live wires to jump-start a car. Every now and then a spark would make Ratchet jump, usually followed by a curse or two before he would continue. There were speckles of the same pinkish glow on his hands, and Allison swallowed as she realized that it was Wheeljack's blood. She wanted to go over to him, but was too afraid. Glancing, she saw that Wheeljack's entire body was covered in dents and gashes, and wherever he wasn't broken open oozing fluids he was scuffed over.

Allison felt an all-encompassing sense of sadness just looking at him, seeing him so beaten, all because of her. Shaking her head she quickly walked back out to the front of the opening, feeling very much like she was going to throw up again.

"Where are you going?" Ratchet called out over his shoulder distractedly without even looking up from his work. She didn't answer him. Arcee looked like she was moving to stop her, but she paused.

"Leave her alone Ratchet." It was just like the only other female presence to be the one that truly understood what she needed. Maybe Wheeljack would have, but his opinion at the moment couldn't be countedl. Ratchet was just meddlesome, and she was in no mood for it. Wisely he didn't press the issue, but she heard him grunt over his shoulder. He'd be keeping an eye on her regardless, so it didn't really matter. She was in plain sight, so where would she really go?

Allison stopped near the opening of the reservoir and leaned against the side, letting her knees collapse and take her down to the ground. The cool air hit her face and pulled her into a hazy lull of exhaustion, where she closed her eyes. She'd never felt so tired in her life, both physically and mentally. Soon Allison dozed, hugging her body tightly for added comfort, letting the Autobots behind her continue unhindered.


	31. Interlude

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
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It didn't feel like much time had passed, but Allison woke with a start, blinking bleary eyes at the sudden daylight beyond her. It was blinding white, her eyes clouded over with a haze of exhaustion and sleep, making the world outside seem to embody a grainy filter like electric static. It was startling to open her eyes to sudden, almost unnatural white, and looking out into the trees beyond there was the funny sensation that she'd woken up for a reason. Allison had the disoriented feeling that something had disturbed her, and peering out she tried to make sense of the thick tree line. It was odd, seeming to be much thicker and covered than she remembered. There was no sign of Arcee's passing through the night before. In fact, it looked quite untouched.

Allison felt a ringing in her ears, and rubbing the side of her face to try and make it disappear, she started to stand. The tree line began to sway, subtly at first, like something was stalking through. Then it intensified, shaking violently to allow something obviously massive clearance into the open. Her eyes widened slowly, as what came through the tree line was something large and silver: the barrel of a gigantic weapon. She stopped breathing as it was followed by the massive arm that held it.

Soundwave came through, emerging from the brush like a cobalt ghost dissolving into view on a film reel. He was coming straight for her with burning eyes, the weapon trained on her chest before he lowered it to her leg. For some reason she couldn't scream or call to the Autobots, her voice catching in her throat like it was locked behind a door. They were seemingly absent from the world, and she couldn't turn her body to see where they were. All she could do was stare. Stare as Soundwave came forward into the clearing and fired at her.

The sound of the blast was almost nonexistent. She felt numb, stunned beyond all reasoning while an empty calm descended upon the clearing as the hollow noise of the blast echoed away. Then there was searing, blinding pain that ripped up her leg and body in one instant, causing her to collapse to the ground. The only thing Allison could feel besides the pain was the warmth of gushing blood. The only coherent thought that could cross her mind was the realization that her leg was gone, and the wound was most certainly fatal. But still she could not scream.

There was a blast near her as out of nowhere, Arcee blurred past into the open towards the Decepticon. She was swatted to the side across her face and sent flying through the trees like nothing more than a harmless fly. The force of her body passing through was followed only by destruction and shredded foliage as she hit the ground, eyes blanked out suddenly in the cold truth of death. The color drained from her body, replacing it with a sick, ashen grey. There was still no screaming. There was only the roar of rage from behind as Ratchet barreled past, electro-magnets snapping dangerously as he lunged at the Decepticon to avenge Arcee's shocking death. Soundwave fired, and Ratchet was shot down, chest exploding with a sharp, blinding burst of light as he fell. He did not stand back up, but remained motionless on the ground as his body faded to grey. He was dead.

Soundwave stepped over him nimbly, without even a second look at the fallen corpse as he came forward. Her heart was fighting like a wounded bird, fluttering to get the last bits of life out before he crushed her. Allison finally managed to turn, and her body jolted painfully as she saw the horrible image she would take to the grave with her. Wheeljack was still lying prostrate against the wall, unconscious and unaware of what was going on. Weakly, she tried to call out to him, to warn him, but nothing came from her mouth other than pitiful squeak of pain. Soundwave moved past her indifferently, and in only a few seconds his hand came forward and grasped Wheeljack by the neck, but the Autobot failed to move or even respond to the attack. With a quick jerk of the Decepticon's wrist, there was a sick crunching sound as Wheeljack's neck snapped. There was a momentary flash of the Autobot's eyes as his body spasmed, chest surging forward for only a fraction of a second before his body collapsed again, silent and still. She couldn't see his body go grey in the dark, but she knew he was dead, and she was now all alone.

"N-N-No…" she finally managed to stutter, her throat jumping as she struggled to breath and speak at the same time. Soundwave turned to her and looked down. His eyes held no pity behind the searing red of his visor. There was only the barest hint of obscene satisfaction that gave away the inevitable pleasure he was getting out of this slaughter. Allison knew she was dying, and that there was nothing she could do. All she could do was wait for it to come as Soundwave bent to grab her. In only a moment Soundwave would touch her. It would all be over. She could only hope that whatever he planned to do would be quick; take what he needed from her and then let her go.

There was a sharp pain behind her eyes, emerging first from the base of her skull to swallow up her entire head in a blanket of agony as she started to shiver from unnatural cold. It became unbearable, the tortured throb increasing to a blaring maximum that burned her eyes, feeling like her brain was being stabbed by hot pokers. If this is what it felt like to be violated by the Decepticon, to have her mind picked and trespassed upon, then she wanted it to end. Even though she was dying, instinctively she tried to fight it. Thrashing weakly she tried to shut down all the final thoughts that were running through her head, trying to go blank and focus on nothing but the pain, and the death that she desperately needed now more than ever. Out of nowhere Allison felt a momentary surge of strength born from the endorphins and the urge to fight that was ripping through her, and she tried desperately to move, jerking-

-up and facing forward, seeing only calm, moonlit darkness beyond. Allison gasped for air, drenched with sweat and petrified as the trees swayed in front of her soothingly with the breeze. She was shaking, pulse thundering as better sense met her. It had been a dream… just a dream…

Whirling around, still not totally convinced that so much realness and raw sensation could be conjured up from only her mind and nothing more, she looked into the room beyond. She saw only Ratchet, sitting alone on the ledge with his head in his hands, slumped over himself in a clear picture of defeat. Arcee was gone. Wheeljack was still propped against the corner, his gasping reduced to a calm stillness over his body.

Suddenly Allison felt like she was bursting with energy as the remaining rush from her dream made her alert. Her heart finally calmed, so she stood, brushing the dust and grime off of her already too-filthy clothing. She didn't exactly know what she was doing, but she let her feet carry her over to where Ratchet looked so dejected. He did not look up or even seem to notice that she was coming towards him. Reaching out, she touched Ratchet's leg, laying her palm against the trembling plates of his calf. He jerked, as if he hadn't even heard her come up to him, and turned his weary gaze onto her. His eyes went hard, and Allison drew back fearing she'd offended him by touching him.

"I'm… sor-"

"Don't apologize," Ratchet said hurriedly. "I was… thinking…" he said delicately, sighing. Pausing, he looked down at her carefully with a raised brow. "Was there something you needed?" he croaked, obviously exhausted but feeling he had an obligation to meet. Allison was startled, feeling like she'd been needlessly put on the spot. There was nothing she particularly needed… he'd just seemed so sad and alone.

"I… no," she said. "Um, I had a bad dream, and I just… wanted to see how you were…" she said hesitantly, but tried to look hard into his eyes. There was a brief moment of surprise that passed over his face, a subtle widening of his gaze, before disappearing into the barest hint of gratitude. Allison was surprised to see Ratchet actually smile.

"I'm… fine…" he murmured, reaching down towards her. To Allison's surprise, he picked her up and gently set her down on the ledge next to him. This was probably the nicest, and most affectionate that he'd ever been, and it was thankfully helping to calm her after having such a terrifying mental assault. "There's no reason to worry about me." he added after a moment, staring out into the darkness beyond the entrance.

Allison pulled her legs in beneath her and set her hands in her lap, joining him in staring out into the pale moonlight beyond. She found that she didn't have much to offer Ratchet in the way of conversation, but he didn't exactly appear to be in a talkative mood. Instead, she hoped he merely appreciated the company as much as she did. Glancing at Wheeljack, she couldn't stop the enormous swell of gratitude, which was quickly drowned out with the pity and guilt she felt over knowing he was this state because of his need to protect her. He looked so pathetic, leaned over himself and unconscious, wires and shredded plating decorating his shoulder where his arm was supposed to be.

The appendage in question was lying neatly near his feet atop what looked like a moth-eaten cloth, and Allison wondered if it had been there all along and she just hadn't noticed. It was somewhat surreal to see a limb, Wheeljack's forcefully amputated arm, just sitting on the ground like someone's sick idea of Feng Shui. But she knew it was there for a reason, waiting for Ratchet's inevitable operation. She hoped that Ratchet would be able to work his magic and help Wheeljack, because she'd never forgive herself if he was permanently crippled because of her.

Sitting next to Ratchet now, there was a weird sense of awe she felt towards the medic that she'd never perceived before. It was born out of appreciation, and respect for him that was far too deep to really express. He'd brought Wheeljack back - from near death - and soon Wheeljack would be in complete functioning order again. And he'd done all this, while still making sure that she was safe. So many times Ratchet could have disregarded her, and frankly, not even talked to her or even given the impression that he cared about her safety. But for all his acid temperament and overall pessimistic nature, there was that genuine side of him that did have a heart, which he clearly had difficulties expressing. Allison was okay with that. After all, it made him more real.

"We're not safe here..." Allison murmured, thinking allowed. She didn't expect Ratchet to respond, but he did.

"Arcee seeded the area with scrambling units, although they're not going to hold out longer than twenty-four cycles..." he said, almost hopelessly. "So I'll need to hurry and get Wheeljack up on his feet by then..." He sighed heavily. It had never occurred to her how much pressure this was actually putting on him, but it was clear on his face that he was worried. He'd always looked cranky, but this was different. This was disaster written all over his face. In the interest of being honest, they were crippled, and completely vulnerable. If they were attacked now, their chances for survival were slim to nothing. Allison leaned over and pressed against his arm, but she wondered if she was being a nuisance.

"He's alright," it was not so much a question but a statement intending to invite some more information out of Ratchet if he was willing to share. He turned and looked down at her in somewhat of a mild panic, as if he didn't know what to do with her offer of closeness. He shifted uncomfortably, but after a few moments he settled and allowed her to remain leaning against him.

"He'll need to sleep it off for a while. His body will naturally repair most of the internal damage, but it's going to take me some time to get his arm back on and repair his spatial capacitor." he glanced at her quickly, then pointed to the space of air near the side of his face as an added explanation. "Those energy conductors have at their base a circuit that helps regulate his balance. They're used to refocus depth perception and center of gravity if one, or both of our optics are compromised. When Soundwave shattered his panel it was dislodged, so it needs to be soldered back into place...Eh..." he trailed off, as if realizing he was blabbing and took her lofty expression as disinterest. He looked away, but Allison tapped his arm to regain his attention.

"Actually, I didn't know that... thank you...I'd always wondered what those big ears are for" she tried to smile, but even though it was genuine it still felt difficult to find any sort of pleasantries about... well, life in general. The mood between them was definitely sullen as if they both shared a common trauma, which Allison supposed, was not very far from the truth. Even so, it was difficult to find anything to be even mildly optimistic about.

"He should be up and about soon, although..." Ratchet looked at her warily. "It's going to be difficult getting him to sit still, since all he's going to want to do is smother you once he sees you." It took a moment for Allison to catch the smirk on his face, and she couldn't help but smile back at him. For the first time Ratchet responded to her visual mood and seemed to glow with warmth. It was actually quite nice to see him not so irritable, and dare she say, it almost made the medic handsome in a weird way. "He might not look his best for a while, and he'll be shaky, but he'll at least be himself," he said. Allison managed a small laugh.

"So no experiments for at least a week," she smiled. Ratchet snorted, but it was out of good-humor.

"A week? I'd say at least a solar cycle. But he won't listen to me anyway." He was peering down at her again, and she was surprised to feel him actually lay a hand against her back. Looking genuinely concerned, Ratchet motioned to the opening of the pipe. "I sent Arcee out, no, she'll be fine," he said in response to Allison's sudden alarm. "You're dehydrated, and not to mention severely malnourished. It's no wonder you've been in pieces the last few megacycles." Allison couldn't help but roll her eyes at him, playfully.

"My God, how did I ever take care of myself when you weren't around?" she teased. Ratchet closed his eyes pleasantly, accompanied by the same funny little smirk that Allison actually found rather charming. It made him almost approachable.

A noise at the mouth of their little cave made both of them look up with a start. Arcee had returned, and she quietly hurried towards them. Allison glanced at Ratchet, and saw a very peculiar look in his eyes that she'd never seen before. He was looking at Arcee, who was returning his pointed glance. It was nearly like the way Wheeljack would look at her now, a very deep, connected understanding of one-another, and pure unbridled relief to be re-united. It didn't take long for Allison to put the pieces together, but she decided she'd keep her observations to herself. Ratchet and Arcee were Bonded.

Keeping that new-found, adorable, revelation safely inside her own thoughts, she looked on curiously as Arcee produced a bundle and handed it dutifully towards her with a smile of her own. Allison felt it would be best to not ask where it had all come from as she took it from Arcee, murmuring her thanks. She held the bundle questioningly, wondering what on Earth Ratchet would have asked Arcee to get, and felt further pressured to find that they were both watching her.

Feeling like they were expecting magic now, she decided to unwrap her package and looked down at her find. There was a large bottle of water, along with a slightly flattened sandwich, a few various candy bars, a bag of pretzels and a bruised orange. It was an odd combination of food, but it was probably some of the better things she'd seen in a while. Plus, they were relatively fresh, if not a little worse for wear.

"I made my way inside an office building not far from here, and managed to crack open the vending machines. They'll never know..." Arcee offered, as Allison looked between her and Ratchet with that very question on her lips. Allison found she really didn't care that it was technically stolen, and she felt she'd more than paid her dues to earn it that night. She was more interested in Ratchet's expression, who was looking at the pile of food as if it was diseased. He didn't say anything however, and looked back at Allison with the command to eat apparent in his eyes. There was no reason to not do what he was insisting she do, so she began to pick through the gift and started to eat. She didn't eat everything, but once she'd had her fill she wrapped the remains back into the bundle for later. The candy bars would keep, so she'd eaten the sandwich and the orange, followed by only half of the pretzels. If she got hungry again later she didn't want to force any of them to leave and be exposed just for the sake of feeding her.

"Thank you..." she said to Arcee, who returned her thanks with a nod and a warm smile. Her and Ratchet looked at each other, and began what could only be a silent exchange of words between them that was clearly private. Satisfied with her hunger sated, and not wanting to be an intrusion on them, she turned her attention back to Wheeljack. He obviously hadn't moved, but she felt compelled to touch him, as if she had to feel him to believe he was actually there.

Allison was about to ask Ratchet if it would be safe, until she was stopped by the oddest noise coming from Wheeljack's mouth, or rather, from behind his battle mask. He was emitting a shrill, repetitive chirping noise like a bird. Every moment or so he would pause, falling silent, then after another few seconds the chirping would continue. His intact arm was twitching, fingers moving as if he was trying to grasp something with his hand, while various little pieces on his chest would spasm like tiny little seizures. She gaped at this display, but the lack of urgency from Ratchet and Arcee made it seem as if this happened all the time.

"He may be in stasis lock, but his processor is still active..." Ratchet offered when she turned to him, white with alarm. He looked completely unfazed, but actually looked amused at her surprise.

"What does that mean?" she whispered, wondering why on Earth Wheeljack would appear to be in such physical distress out of nowhere, when moments ago he was blissfully calm. Ratchet looked at her calmly.

"He's dreaming Allison."

"He... is?" this was a hard thing to grasp, but she remembered only vaguely Wheeljack mentioning his dreams in passing. She'd never actually thought he'd been serious, finding it hard to comprehend that a robot could dream. But here it was staring her in the face, and something was clearly going on in Wheeljack's subconscious that he could experience but they couldn't. If that wasn't a dream there was no other word to call it. "I wonder what he's dreaming about..." she said fondly, feeling sudden affection for him. He looked so vulnerable like that, a captive of his own sleeping mind's workings that he was too exhausted and weak to escape from.

"If it were a bad dream, you would know. It appears as if whatever he's thinking about, it's pleasant," Ratchet offered. He looked at Allison knowingly, as if to say that it was clear he was dreaming about her. That was a weird thought, but it wasn't like she could stop Wheeljack's brain from running videos of her, or at least something that resembled her, when he was sleeping. In fact, in a way it was almost flattering. It meant that even in such a depleted state his mind was still on her well being.

"How do you know?" she asked, wondering if she'd get an answer that made sense. Instead, she got one that was both simple and annoying.

"Trust me," he smirked, but didn't offer anymore. Allison frowned at him, but didn't press the issue. Maybe there was some kind of chemical, or electrical change that Ratchet could read, but she couldn't. Or maybe his chirping wasn't the random noise it seemed to be to her ears, but something in their own language. Regardless, Wheeljack had fallen still again, as whatever movie his mind had been playing appeared to have concluded.

"I guess I should let him rest," she said, more to herself than anything. It was mostly to pry herself away from Wheeljack's side, since she was compelled to sit and wait. But what else could she do? She looked around at Ratchet and Arcee. Both Autobots were busy talking to themselves. Ratchet almost looked happy as he tinkered away at something on his own arm, while Arcee looked on, smiling. She almost thought she caught Ratchet laughing at one point.

This was actually the first moment that Allison got the chance to really look at Arcee's face without being in the middle of a fire fight. She was definitely feminine, and even attractive in some weird way that Allison couldn't place. Perhaps it was just all the smoothness and graceful curving of her features that certainly exuded an unmistakable degree of beauty, offset with very gentle eyes that sparkled. The sides of her face were ornamented by round, discus like protrusions that almost looked comparable to wrapping hair up in a bun. But in this way it was almost decorative, and seemed to only enhance Arcee's femininity without being glaringly obvious.

There was also a matronly quality to the way she spoke, behaved and even carried herself that made Allison think of a kindly kindergarten teacher she would have had when she was little. Or perhaps even her mother. It was actually really reassuring.

Allison looked up at Wheeljack, unconscious and away in some other world, and she sighed in frustration. She was feeling somewhat useless, too small to be of any use to the Autobots, and unable to go anywhere. With nothing really to do, she had to admit she was starting to feel slightly bored, despite the relief she felt at not having to be running or avoiding being crushed to death.

There had to be something that would keep her busy and her mind off things, and that's when she remembered the book. She could read and try to gather more information, or at least, figure out why she'd nearly been killed. She wasn't tired anymore, and the waning night was beginning to succumb to the onset of daylight outside the mouth of their cave. Her bag was near the front, so sliding down she went to grab it. Ratchet watched her carefully as if she was about make a run for it, but once he was satisfied she wasn't about to become a fugitive he continued his conversation with Arcee. Allison still didn't want to interrupt them, so she found a spot in the middle of the room where she could see all of them (and Ratchet could see her) and returned to the page she'd left off.

If Allison had thought that the book would immediately impart its wisdom in clean, simple phrasings then she would have been dead wrong. In fact it quickly became apparent as she read on that the man who had written this did not have a complete hold of his mental faculties. The further she read, the more hysterical the text became. Allison sat back and stared at the open book. If she was to figure any of this out, she had to try and use whatever knowledge she had of her boss to decode his rantings.

Allison tried to think back to her time spent around her Arkeville at the office, trying hard to juxtapose the man who she had reported to every day back at the office with the mad scribbles he had left behind. Images of his unique note-keeping style and the habit he had of constantly divulging from whatever topic of conversation he was failing at maintaining flew through her head. This book certainly wouldn't be the first time her boss's notes failed to present their meanings in a clear manner. The loud video conferences he was often engaged in daily with angry and impatient business partners venting their frustration were a testament to that. With that frame of mind, she tried to apply that to her research. Through hard work and the limited personal knowledge she had of the way her boss worked, she was able to slowly separate the abstract theories from the more relevant data he had input into the journal. It took a while, but eventually she was able to derive the core sequence of events that had transpired before his disappearance.

Buried within just a few paragraphs and sandwiched between references to particle collisions and the various agglutinate qualities of peanut butter, was the the information she was looking for. It remained cryptic at best, and her sleuthing only provided her with little more than an educated guess as to just what had happened, but it was a start.

It had begun with simple curiosity on Arkeville's' part, and what first had been a completely innocent endeavor of scanning the atmosphere for anomalous transmissions. He'd done so by focusing on specific areas according to celestial mappings, but why he'd been doing this was never made clear. There were frequent times that he'd mentioned Optimus Prime, and in companionship to that the Autobots as well. Allison wondered if what he'd been doing had some relevance to them, or perhaps, had been something he'd been doing to help them locate any sort of signal. Wheeljack had mentioned that they'd lost contact with Cybertron ages ago, so it made her think it possible he'd been expecting some kind of communication from them.

That was all speculation and something that likely only Optimus Prime would know, but at some point he'd actually been successful in finding something. At first, this something was never directly explained other than the obvious conclusion that it was some type of voice. Apparently, whatever device he'd been using to scan the heavens, had been some sort of high frequency radio that had allowed him to communicate with this individual. It didn't appear as if this voice had ever revealed its identity until later on, which coincided with roughly the same time he'd disappeared. However the name of this individual was never mentioned.

Why he had been communicating with this voice in the first place wasn't directly obvious. Perhaps it had been purely interest in speaking to an otherworldly being, or something else had compelled him to keep speaking to this individual up until, what appeared to have been fairly recently. This being's intentions, or their own personal motives was not something that Arkeville appeared to have been privy too, at least until there was some mention of the Autobot Elite Guard. That was when the voice impressed upon him who he was, but unfortunately for her, Arkeville never named this mystery Autobot.

There were some other scattered phrases about security protocols and the Autobot secured base, which apparently this Cybertronian was not aware of but actually needed in order to finally establish communication with Optimus Prime's missing crew. This was about the point where the voice had become insistent, apparently to the point that Arkeville had disabled the device and stowed it away before disappearing. Something about all this just didn't feel right.

The Pendulum device, while curiously named, appeared to have been what her boss had been using to communicate with the Autobot. The more immediate interest, was what the Pendulum device actually was, apparently built on Cybertronian technology as a long range communication radar. What was interesting about the device itself was that it appeared to scan all the open frequencies no human technology could reach, while actively locating and storing the data coordinates of where the signal originated from. This was probably what made it so alarming. It created an open channel with the other side that both parties could track, thus leading whoever was there to the other's relative location. In this sense, it would be leading this Autobot to Earth, and if Arkeville had followed through, to the Autobot location.

That was perhaps where he'd disappeared without following through. If he'd gotten the same vibes by talking to this Autobot that she got just be reading his observations, then frankly she couldn't blame him. Apparently he had been more than a little insistent, so Arkeville had done everything he could to sever the communication link thus keeping the mysterious party from being able to reach the planet.

This all meant two things. Her boss knew, or had known where the Autobots were located in Detroit, and someone else had wanted that information. That someone her boss had felt, could not be trusted. It was hard to tell if his disappearance had been due to fowl play, or perhaps, the Decepticons had gotten wind of what he'd been doing and had wanted to act on it themselves. That either meant, this Autobot he'd been communicating with was really good news for the Autobots, or really bad news for the entire planet. Allison was willing to wager the latter was true. That was why it was paramount that they found this device before Soundwave and Starscream did.

At the end there was a crudely drawn sketch of the Pendulum itself. It was rectangular in shape, but as for its dimensions it was hard to tell exactly how large it was. There was a smaller rectangular shape outlined near the edge, and below that a series of shapes that looked vaguely like buttons, or some type of controls. At the bottom edge there was a crudely drawn circle with the label "dock" scribbled along the edge. The whole thing was surrounded by a much larger box, or square that looked like it had speakers drawn into the side, almost like a stereo. It looked familiar, but the shape itself seemed fairly mundane in its design. It looked no different than some type of radio with some weird edges, but there was no coloring or any real discernible markings to be able to accurately tell what it was. The sketch was surrounded by hastily scribbled calculations that filled nearly all of the page. That was all foreign to her, but then again, the image itself was so general it was almost meaningless.

But it would all have to wait, Allison's inner musings were rudely interrupted by the sound of Ratchet's grisly voice, shaking her from her reverie.

"Do you need your auditory sensors re-calibrated or do you just have selective hearing?"

"What?" turning to him, she set the book down to find him peering down at her from his seat on the ledge. Arcee had moved to the other end of the room and had settled against the opposite wall, appearing to have gone to sleep, or at least their equivalent of what that was supposed to look like. She was gently leaned back, eyes shuttered and dim and completely at peace. Ratchet on the other hand was the glaring opposite, staring hot pokers into her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've been talking to you for the last five minutes and you apparently haven't heard a word I said to you," he grunted, folding his arms. "But I suppose that's to be expected with such a frivolous attention span, just like that glitch over there," he gestured to Wheeljack. She smiled sweetly at him, trying to look sarcastic.

"Now why would that be, when I'm sure whatever you have to say would be so much more interesting?" she jabbed. He glared at her. "Okay I'm sorry, what were you saying to me?"

"I was going to tell you that you can go over to him if you want, because I'm sure sitting in the middle of the floor is a riot. He's not going to roll over and smash you, but if he dreams again the worst it'll do is disturb you," Ratchet said thoughtfully, then he eyed the book and passed his gaze back over Allison. "I take it you're about to shower me with brilliance now?" Allison shook her head at him and put the book back in her bag before standing. She supposed it would be good to sit next to Wheeljack. Admittedly, it would feel kind of nice. As she slowly walked over to Wheeljack's silent form, she looked at Ratchet.

"No, I'm afraid not… it's all very cryptic… but what I did get out of it is he was using something to speak with an Autobot outside of Earth…" she said, and Ratchet looked both puzzled and surprised at the same time.

"Did it say anything more?" he asked hurriedly. There was no real alarm, but there was a definite sense of urgency in his voice. Allison stepped hesitantly around Wheeljack's non-damaged side, unsure of what she actually intended to do. She continued,

"No, it didn't really, but there was mention of the Elite Guard trying to contact Optimus Prime." Allison turned and looked at Ratchet, who was watching her with scrutinizing interest. "And he was using something called a Pendulum to do so. I'm betting that's what he wants me to find… because something about his notes makes me think that my boss didn't entirely trust this Autobot's character…" she said, raising an eyebrow at him. It was now clear that this device, and potentially the need to figure out how to work it and keep it from the Decepticons, would be their next priority after making sure Wheeljack was healthy again. Now how she intended to do that, was still up in the air. She'd have to go through all the notes again to see if they made any more sense later on, because right now there was still no telling what the device actually was or where it was being kept.

"But he didn't mention a name?" he asked, looking out towards the entryway distractedly, frowning. Allison couldn't tell if he had something on his mind aside from true concern, or if he actually had any sort of idea as to who this person could be.

"No," Allison responded, finally settling on choosing Wheeljack's left upper leg as a relatively safe place to be. His hand was lying limp on the ground near his waist, and Allison knelt down and placed a hand against his forefinger. It was warm, and twitched subtly when she touched it, causing her to draw back with alarm. She didn't think she'd ever get over the notion that a surface made purely of metal could feel anything at all, but in the barest of senses his hand knew she was there. Dimly she wondered if Wheeljack knew it was her, and if it was maybe any sort of comfort to him knowing that.

"Then there's only two things I can think of that would make this a potential problem. If it was indeed the Elite Guard, then if the Decepticons got their hands on the communication device they would be able to find Cybertron and call down reinforcements or worse…" he said, resting his chin against his hand . Just looking at Ratchet Allison could tell that he was starting to get tired. "That would of course be bad, but what would be even worse, is if this was a trick. There have been imposters in the Elite Guard before, notably Shockwave, and if this is one of those times, leading this questionable Autobot to the Earth's location and our fortified base would be a very bad thing…" he said, turning back to her. "So this man did a very smart thing by keeping this hidden, although I'm not sure if it really matters at this point. The Decepticons clearly know about it so we need to find it before they do and alert Prime."

"Well that's the thing. It seems like this Autobot was trying to infiltrate your security systems…" Allison said, thinking, then realized an important detail. "But if the device is disabled it doesn't sound like it can be tracked," she said. Her gaze wandered up to Wheeljack, who looked as peaceful as he had been before. It was mildly creepy to see his eyes partially open and staring down at her, but much more muted from their usual sparkle. Perhaps the dimmer quality only accentuated the changing hues of marines and turquoise as the colors shifted and swam from deep within, normally obscured by the glow when they were fully lit. It was the only hint that there was still something functioning behind those glassy orbs, separating Wheeljack's body from that of an inert statue; That and the subtle vibration from his body that she could feel. It was quite calm, and much more comforting than simply standing across the room and staring at him.

Finding solace in this, Allison sat against his leg taking comfort in its warmth. It was a silly, childish need, but she didn't care. Ratchet watched her through hazy eyes, but didn't say anything about it. Instead he continued their discussion at hand.

"Unless of course, it can be manipulated..." he said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin as if he'd just thought of something. "But before anything happens, we need hold out just a little bit more for Prime to get here and see what he thinks. It won't be that much longer… and we need him."


	32. Desperate Times

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
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"He's coming... as in here?" Allison spluttered, feeling shocked and somewhat alarmed all at the same time. Optimus Prime had always been an obscure figurehead that she assumed that she'd never meet. Like some kind of politician or leading figure that people talked about but never actually became acquainted with in person, but only knew of them by name or at a distance. Hearing that he was on his way suddenly made her feel just slightly weird, because that could only mean that things had spiraled so far out of control that it was beyond salvaging. Looking back at all the mysterious destruction that had gone on in the city in just the few short months past, it seemed like a feasible response from their leader, but it was still a little disheartening that he felt the need to intervene. It was almost like they weren't doing a good job. But Ratchet was right, they clearly did need him. If the state of Wheeljack unconscious in a corner wasn't enough to indicate that things had gone so horribly wrong, then she didn't know what was.

"When I was outside of the city I received a transmission from him only to find that he was already very near. Our lack of communication and the reports of what's been going on was more than enough to alert him," Ratchet explained, looking grim. "And there's also another thing. Prime is concerned for you Allison. Don't think for a moment that he doesn't understand what you've been thrown in the middle of, but it was never meant to go this far," Ratchet grunted, looking as if he wasn't entirely convinced of his own excuses. His eyes were closed. "There wasn't time to tell you earlier… so I'm telling you now. If we can hold them off just a little bit longer we'll make it. Prime isn't alone. As long as Megatron himself doesn't decide to show up we'll be fine, but in the meantime, we should find this device and figure out what to do with it later."

"Right," Allison said, leaning up against the plating of Wheeljack's thigh. She closed her eyes, letting the lull of his internal systems soothe her. She didn't want to think about that now; What they would need to do once Wheeljack was repaired. Allison didn't think she could wait another half a day to be able to speak to him again, but she knew she had no other choice. She'd give for something, anything to let the time go by. That brought up a question in her mind that she'd wanted to ask Ratchet, but couldn't think of how to do it. "So… I guess we're lucky that Arcee came when she did."

"Yes we are, because we needed her help, although it's still going to be tough. Arcee is an adept fighter, and she's quick, but she's not nearly as formidable as the Decepticon communications officer or a single deranged Seeker." Ratchet looked over at Arcee, who seemed completely oblivious to the conversation about her that was going on at that moment. "We're still outmatched," He added quickly, frowning with visible worry as he watched Arcee sleep. Allison wanted desperately to press Ratchet for certain details, but knew it was inappropriate. Instead, she began an indirect attempt to steer the conversation towards something less private. Given that she could clearly tell they were Bonded, and subsequently very close she assumed that he knew a decent amount about her. The real question was how much he was willing to share.

"What's her story then?" Allison ventured, wondering exactly how much Ratchet was going to splurge.

"She is an Autobot infiltrator and courier, her size and speed allowing her to retrieve sensitive information that would normally be somewhat difficult to procure."

"So she does all the leg work?" Allison said, a little haughtily.

"She doesn't just run," Ratchet said, his tone short. "Her processor has heightened memory power, so she's able to encrypt and store very large amounts of data that would be too sensitive to put in communication documents susceptible to theft. It isn't impossible, but it would be very difficult and destructive to get at the information and decrypt it…" he seemed to darken then, looking at Arcee. "And that's exactly what happened when I thought I'd lost her." Ratchet looked somewhat misty-eyed, his frown underscoring what he was probably really thinking contrary to what he'd say to her. Allison was smart enough to determine what it was, and thought that Ratchet deserved the privacy, but was surprised to hear him continue. "I was sent to find her assuming the worst, as she was carrying very sensitive security protocols for the Decepticon mainframe. She was badly damaged and unable to walk, so I had to transport her, but we were attacked and she was captured. They left me for dead, but their intentions for her were uncertain." His hands were balled into fists. "There was nothing I could have done once I was revived, because the scout team had already brought me back. Everyone just assumed her fate had been death, and I was told to accept the same thing. I couldn't live with that, but there was never time to mourn her…" he drifted off, and Allison wasn't entirely sure how to respond. Even after everything she'd seen, it was still so hard to picture Ratchet running out in the middle of a firefight. But Wheeljack had said he'd been search and rescue during the war, and there was no end to the horrors of what he'd likely seen.

"Certainly she did something before the war, then?" Allison attempted to change the subject.  
"She was an intelligence instructor to the younglings in Iacon, but that was a very long time ago." Allison found that Ratchet's answer didn't really surprise her. In fact, it almost made sense.

"Ah, I get it. She was a teacher then… so she would have had to know a lot, which would explain the memory power, right?"

"There's hope for that dinky little processor of yours yet," Ratchet smirked, raising his brow as if she was one of the aforementioned younglings who'd just been caught doing something outrageous. Allison didn't know if she'd let something slip on her face, or the medic was just feeling generous. "It may shock you to learn that I wasn't born yesterday, but I would be willing to swear on my own Spark that you've figured it out…"

"Uh... yeah, it's kind of obvious..." she smiled sheepishly, but hurriedly tried to arrange her face into something more controlled. "But, er, it's alright if you don't want to talk about it though." Allison tried to back-pedal, seeing Ratchet's face looking like a mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance. After a moment he chuckled.

"I happen to understand a great deal about what Wheeljack is feeling. It's very confusing when one first realizes something is different, and it can have devastating effects if the timing is bad." Allison frowned, knowing that in his own subtle way, Ratchet was referring to Wheeljack's feelings towards her. She was aware that it was considered not the most beneficial of times for Wheeljack to decide to bond, and that made it more than a little disconcerting. It was actually quite frustrating, as if it had been something she should have had control over. "I don't mean that to reflect poorly on you, Allison." Ratchet must have sensed her discomfort, and while his sentiments seemed genuine, his frankness in the whole matter was still unwanted.

Allison folded her arms and leaned back against Wheeljack, letting her mind wander back to Arkeville's journal. She didn't have nearly the basic understanding of the mathematics and science involved deep within the scribbles, which was making it all the more frustrating. Wheeljack might have known, but he was currently handicapped and not in any shape to help them. After showing Ratchet the book, he hadn't been able to make sense of the chaos either, perhaps not able to follow the erratic workings of a deranged human's mind regardless of his intelligence level. That would have probably been more of Wheeljack's forte, given how unpredictable he already was, but he was currently no use to them unconscious. Allison was about to sit back down in defeat when an idea, albeit a dangerous one, finally hit her.

"Ratchet," she said, with some hesitation to find what kind of reaction she was going to get. Ratchet looked at he expectantly, and if she'd learned one thing, it was not to keep the Autobot waiting. "I think I know someone who can help with this..."

"Who?" Ratchet scoffed, as if unable to bring himself to believe such a possibility existed. Admittedly, it was hard for Allison to continue with her idea, feeble as it was, when Ratchet was looking at her with an enormous lack of confidence in what she was about to divulge. She swallowed, looking away as she tried to arrange her thoughts.

"I'm not a scientist, and I think that's painfully obvious, but I know someone who is. He can help me make sense of this..."

"Absolutely not."

"But Ratchet, we don't have any other options right now. We have no idea what it is we're looking for, and maybe, just maybe all these scientific scribbles will mean something." Allison pleaded her case, but got nothing more than a look of disbelief from the very large robot on the other side of the room. "Look, I don't need to tell him who I've been running around with... I can just tell him I found the journal. He can be trusted. He knew Arkeville too, because we worked for the same company." Allison held her breath as Ratchet watched her with intense eyes, seeming to be processing what she was saying internally, but he offered no real response.

"I'm not letting you leave, not after everything that happened to you tonight, and I can't leave Wheeljack here unattended-"

"Then Arcee can take me. Really, it's not that big of a deal..."

"Not that big of a deal? We are in disrepair. We are low on Energon, and our sense of control, and one of us-" Ratchet pointed at Wheeljack. "-is sitting in the corner unconscious with a severed limb that I need to re-attach. Our whole existence relies on our ability to not be seen right now, and you want to go run back outside to go ask a human of all things about what to do next?"

"I...don't know what else to do." Allison admitted, looking back at Wheeljack, who expectantly had not moved. Ignorance must have been bliss at that point.

"Neither do I..." Ratchet cycled air, turning to glance at Arcee who was still asleep. "We need every Autobot we can get our hands on. And as much as I'd like to get mine around Wheeljack's neck, he's our best engineer. Our only engineer." He turned back to face Wheeljack. "He's lucky I don't just beat him to death with his own arm, but sadly, that won't be an option for us this time."

"That's a bit morbid, Ratchet," Allison made a face, having a hard time picturing Wheeljack getting clobbered by his own severed arm. If it had been a human in the same scenario, it would have been disgusting, but somehow it seemed more commonplace for the robots than it should have been. For all she knew, maybe Autobots replaced parts all the time.

"Besides, ignorance will lead to questions, and you're going to get asked where you've been, and who you've been with, and why you look like you've been dragged through the dirt. You can't be put in that position. I don't care how trustworthy you think your human friend is. We can't risk it."

"Maybe it isn't a good idea, but it's better then what we have now..." Arcee must have woken up at some point during their conversation, because she was awake and alert, watching them from her own side of the cavern with glowing eyes. She was mostly obscured by darkness, but the pointed light from her eyes allowed her face to be seen from within the shadows.

"You would have no idea Arcee, you haven't been here-"

Arcee stood, a sudden rigidness to her features that Allison couldn't help but find unmistakable. It was the expression of a woman who had been scorned, and was not going to let it continue.

"Allison, please excuse us for a moment," Arcee said, without taking her eyes off of Ratchet, who curiously enough looked rather terrified. Not wanting to be put in the middle, nor wanting to incite any crazed protests from Ratchet about going off alone, Allison was torn between staying put and bolting.

"She stays here." Ratchet countered, straightening his posture.

Arcee looked as if she was about to say something, but Allison decided that it was best to bow out gracefully.

"I have to go to the bathroom anyway," Allison said, and she stood to quickly walk out of the cave without taking a look back, grabbing her bag as she fled outside. The tension between them followed her out, and could have easily been cut by a knife as it pressed upon her back almost tangible. It was partially true anyway, and this was a good chance to take care of things without having Ratchet follow her out and wait for her. That just wasn't a very savory position to be put in.

After doing her business quickly (not wanting to get caught should either of them come out looking for her), Allison decided it would be bet to sit and wait for them to finish. She rested against the bottom of the small hill, pulling her knees up to her chin. She could faintly hear the voices of Arcee and Ratchet as they spoke to each other in hurried tones, but she couldn't make out exactly what they were saying.

This allowed her a few moments to get her thoughts together and reflect. The relative peace of the natural world around her helped her concentrate, and interpret what had just happened. Part of her understood Ratchet's hesitation. They were in a pretty bad state, and she'd never felt so certain that the icy gaze of death was looking down on her until that moment. Being exposed did seem like an unnecessary risk, but it seemed like waiting and doing nothing would only invite the Decepticon's to their door like it was a dinner party. They would get torn apart. They had to take the initiative, just like Wheeljack had done when he thought that Ratchet had been intercepted. Admittedly, it nearly got him killed, but at the time he'd been left with no other option. As far as she was concerned, they could sit and do nothing, or try to work out what it was they needed to find before the Decepticons got to it, or to them first.

Allison had never thought of herself as brave. Never in a million years would she have used that to describe herself, and even now, she wasn't confident that she was any more able to hold her own in confrontation then she had been months ago. But after all the danger and the threats to her life, she felt somewhat hardened. Immune. Like the threat of oncoming doom didn't even register in her head as a possibility, even though she knew it was there. She'd become so completely desensitized with the violence that had been her world, that it seemed almost normal. She had no real skill, or real means to defend herself. Yet she found herself willing to accept the idea that if it came down to the wire she would be willing to give herself up if it meant that Wheeljack would survive. But he would never allow that to happen, thus putting himself in the line of fire for her sake. The contradiction was maddening. Perhaps this was how Wheeljack felt, to be so conflicted within that nothing made sense anymore.

A twig snapped near her, and jumping, Allison turned to the noise only to find that Arcee had ventured out into the open. Of all things, Arcee looked apologetic as she crept towards her to crouch down at her side. For a moment they didn't speak, and Allison wasn't sure how to bring about the question regarding what exactly had just gone on in there. Finally, after lengthy moments of the wind rustling through the leaves, and the occasional call of an early bird, Arcee sighed.

"The warden has given me the privilege of taking you to your friend..." Arcee said softly, and Allison was surprised to feel herself comforted by the Autobot's warmth, and subtle attempt at humor. Allison couldn't help but smile, and Arcee returned the gesture with a hint of mischief.

"Okay."

"Wheeljack will be alright," Arcee added. "And so will Ratchet...he's just concerned. It's something you'll have to get used to."

"I know," Allison said with a half-smile, picturing Ratchet being nurturing. "In some weird way I kind of like it. He can be fun to annoy. Does that make me a terrible person?"

"Hah, no, I do it all the time. Actually, I think he likes it to. Makes him feel wanted, even though we all want him around anyway. Besides... it might do you good to have a break away from all this madness. Let's go for a drive, shall we?"

Allison thought that was one of the best ideas she'd heard in a long time.


	33. An Old Friend

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**

* * *

**

Allison followed Arcee through the brush out onto the road, and watched as the Autobot stepped lightly onto the beaten dirt before transforming. Immediately she noticed a difference, one that had not been completely apparent while Arcee had been bipedal: she'd changed her vehicular mode. Before, she'd been a bizarre, panelled and slighlty mishapen box on wheels that just happened to be pink with various offsets of black and white. Now she was what Allison would describe as a very odd sports car, even stranger than how Wheeljack had appeared before he'd decided to become a Mustang. But the difference here was that Allison knew that she'd seen this car before. Rarely, but she was still mildly familiar with it. As Allison circled her frame and saw the branding on the back, it was only confirmed. Arcee was now a very fancy Lotus.

"Nice. Did you just happen to come across one in your travels?" Allison said, lifting a brow in interest. She would never understand why their need for staying discreet always seemed to conflict with their peculiar desire to choose the flashiest cars possible. Arcee made a soft rolling sound, like a giggle.

"Ratchet suggested I find something slightly less alien..." she mused, before popping a door open. Allison didn't think this Lotus was really that much different to be perfectly honest, but at least it didn't look like it was about to blast off into space. Arcee then gave a little huff. "Although, I find it hard to consider myself the alien here, what with being surrounded by so much that I could consider abnormal. Funny how that works."

Allison pretended to ignore the comment as she looked up and down the road uneasily. The quiet was more unsettling than peaceful, and the cold snap of morning that was just starting to set in only added to the biting atmosphere. It seemed far too quiet to be normal, but then she suspected they were practically in the middle of nowhere. Arcee was inviting her inside on the passenger side, but Allison still felt rather hesitant about leaving the others behind. Especially considering Wheeljack was unconscious while Ratchet very well might have been eating his own helmet after having to compromise with Arcee.

"Are you sure Ratchet is okay with this? I mean... isn't he right about it dangerous?" she ventured, but Arcee seemed to be thinking. She sat quietly for a moment unmoving.

"If everyone listened to Ratchet and did everything he said, nothing would ever get done. Sometimes he's too careful," Arcee replied, rumbling softly. "We can just leave for a little while if you really think seeing your friend will help, or we could take you home just briefly. It wouldn't hurt-"

"I don't have a home." Allison blurted hastily, and then backtracked once she'd realized her mouth had been moving without her consent. Hurriedly, she tried to correct her misstep. "I mean... not anymore..." Arcee didn't respond for a moment, falling silent as if realizing her error and contemplating her next response. Allison didn't want to seem ungrateful or rude, but hearing Arcee mention some kind of home had just made it slip. "...Starscream blew it up."

"I'm sorry." Arcee apparently didn't have much else to say about the matter, and perhaps that was for the better. She hadn't exactly been here, and apparently Ratchet had failed to mention the fact that Starscream had obliterated the entire block she'd used to live on. People and all. She couldn't have expected Arcee to know, so there was no time to feel insulted by the added salt in the wounds. Allison wasn't too keen on revisiting that evening anymore than she wanted to throw a mixer with Soundwave, and that was very, very low on the list of things she wanted to do before she died.

"It's okay," Allison muttered, climbing into the newly formed front seat of the Lotus, feeling somewhat shocked by the substantially smaller space compared to what she'd been used to. It wasn't completely cramped, just more petite, like the subtle delicacies of the surroundings were meant to exude a feminine quality. If that was the case it worked, and while it was small, it was still plush and welcoming. Arcee's engine hummed, and Allison barely felt the ground beneath them as the Autobot glided over the dirt road. She realized she was still illuminated by the overhead light, which Allison noticed was a soft pink. She thought for a moment about bringing that up, but opted against it. It was warm, and comforting, and it wasn't like it was distracting Arcee's driving, so she let it go.

As they drove, Allison found she didn't really have much to say. Oddly enough she didn't feel awkward. She would have thought it would be uncomfortable to be in the company of a completely new presence, and one that also happened to be an openly female alien robot. Her quiet came from something much deeper.

"Ah. You like the void of sound to comfort you." Arcee decided to break the gloom with her own observations. Allison had been staring out the window, watching the blurred green of the outside world beyond. It felt so innocent, and yet she felt like her presence was a filthy intrusion in the peace.

"Well I wouldn't exactly call it a void. That sounds too empty. But yeah, I guess humans like quiet time when we're feeling reflective on things that have happened."

"Perhaps the wisest course of action would be to talk it through with someone; to make sense of things," Arcee curtly observed, and for a moment Allison had to re-process what she'd heard a few times over. It sounded so... motherly, or, like something a school counselor or a teacher would have said back in the day. It was now painfully obvious that Arcee was the nurturing type, and whether that was a symptom of her apparent lot in life as a teacher, or just a part of her personality that had made her exceptional in that role (or had encouraged such a career path) was anyone's guess.

Allison wasn't entirely sure she actually wanted to talk about it anyhow.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" Allison asked, deciding she had other things on her mind than dying. She wasn't sure if she was about to regret asking this question or not, but all she could do was hope that Arcee was accepting enough.

"Of course you can." Was her only reply, and her voice was soft.

"When did you know?" Allison began, but hesitated. "I mean... what made you realize that you were-"

"Ah, I see what you mean," Arcee interrupted, as if trying to spare Allison the task of forming the uncomfortable words on her own. "You're asking how one knows they've become Bonded to another, correct? Well, how do humans?"

"Well, we just feel it I guess." Allison hesitated, not expecting to have the question turned back on her.

"Well, there's your answer," Arcee said simply, and by the tone of her voice Allison could almost imagine that she was smiling.

"But, doesn't something change within you? Aren't you governed by some kind of internal programming that tells you what to feel, or, how to recognize this sort of thing?"

"It doesn't exactly work that way... we aren't the same kind of machines that humans program in a manufacturing plant... nobody has programmed us, or told us how we're supposed to act and feel. It's true that the way we individually behave and interact with what's around us is controlled by programming to some degree, but we aren't slaves to what our inherent genetic coding tells us. They're merely guidelines... I'm sure very similar to how you develop certain traits based on who brought you into this world. But you're also molded by your environment and experiences, and the people you associate with. The same is true for us. We are given a base and are allowed to expand on it how we wish. You would call it 'free will' I presume. The Matrix gives us that freedom of self."

"And the Matrix is?" Allison was becoming faintly overwhelmed with all the different terms that kept getting thrown at her.

"You have had all this dumped on you at once, haven't you?" Arcee seemed sympathetic towards Allison's confusion. "Quite simply the Matrix is what is held in protection by the Autobot Primes that bestows upon any newly sparked the advantage of free will. Individuality is possible because of this free will interacting with how we were programmed and the environment that we grow and develop in. The Matrix itself is simply a device that creates the necessary paths in the code. I know it sounds rather impersonal, but it is something that we've never been able to truly understand or recreate," Arcee explained, and Allison was indeed surprised with how straight forward it sounded in theory, but in principle it seemed completely impossible. But then again, so did all of this. "It was a gift from Primus himself."

"So I'm guessing Optimus has this Matrix here on Earth now?" Allison guessed.

"Yes he does. It's very important to us. It might even be why Megatron follow him here... Optimus... borrowed it to ensure it would stay safe."

Allison already knew where that was going. Wheeljack had told her all about Optimus Prime leaving the planet. He'd taken this Matrix with him, to keep it safe. Clearly, Megatron hadn't liked that.

"So, if I'm getting this right, this Matrix or whatever has given you all free-will at birth. So, theoretically you can do or feel whatever you want to without being controlled by programming?" Allison asked, and Arcee was suspiciously quiet for a moment.

"If I am to understand your line of questioning correctly, I'd be willing to bet that this has something to do with Wheeljack…"

"Err- what makes you say that?"

"You are thinking that Wheeljack is insincere."

Allison stopped, realizing she'd blurted the truth and not meant it. That was exactly how she'd been feeling, or at least, what she'd been wondering for a while. While it all outwardly appeared to be anything but insincere, she'd always had a hard time understanding how something that just changed inside him wasn't governed by some kind of internal code; sentient machine or not. She'd been told time and again that it was something they couldn't control or ignore even if they wanted to, which to Allison, seemed a little less meaningful.

"It isn't that I think he's not sincere. I think he is at least in terms of how he reacts to it, and I guess, how you and Ratchet are to each other. I just think that I... maybe shouldn't feel so flattered by it, like, it isn't really a valid emotion... but just, programming he's supposed to obey..."

"That couldn't be further from the truth," Arcee huffed, sounding a little bit affronted, but immediately her voice softened. "Listen to me Allison. If anyone else had happened to be in your position, that doesn't mean that Wheeljack would have just happened to decide that they were worth more than Primus himself. There was something about you that caused that, and it is unique only to you. It is very much an emotion, and while it is in the barest of sense triggered by something internally that we can't explain, it is very deeply personal to us."

"Okay." Allison went quiet, certain that all she'd managed to do was insult her driver, so she opted to say no more. She guessed that she'd just have to accept Wheeljack's feelings for what they were, and stop spending so much time arguing with herself over where those feelings came from or how they were possible. If she could imagine well enough, she'd have to try and pretend that Wheeljack was just a very large metal person.

"So, where are we going?" Arcee finally asked after a few minutes of driving in silence. Allison realized with a start that she hadn't given Arcee any direction as to where to go, but the Autobot had been perfectly happy driving aimlessly for the time being.

"Right... his name is Danielle West. He's a programmer, well, he worked for the same company I did. We've known each other a long time, and I know I can trust him with this. He knew Doctor Arkeville almost as well as I did..." Allison said, watching the trees pass by outside. The immediate area didn't exactly look familiar, but she assumed that Arcee wouldn't have a problem with directions. They probably had their own GPS systems inside them that they could tap into at any moment.

"If that's what you want, but be prepared to have Ratchet attempt to sort this out later..." Arcee said with a gentle attempt at humor in her voice. She was joking, but at the same time she was absolutely correct. Ratchet, and most especially Wheeljack would not be happy with her once he found out, but they weren't there. Allison knew Wheeljack would react especially poorly, but she'd deal with his insecurities later.

"206 Everett Avenue... it's a house. Do you know how to find it?" Arcee didn't respond to her for a moment, but once they broke the tree line she made an immediate turn. It wasn't until they made it back into sparse population that Allison started to recognize the area, so her suspicions about Arcee's navigation abilities were correct. Allison tried to relax with this thought, but found herself looking in every direction with the fear that they were being watched. She supposed Arcee would know if they were being followed, but she couldn't help but feel constantly on alert. The Autobot read on her distress like an open book.

"I know it's hard," Arcee finally said after a moment. They weren't far. Allison had only been to this area a few times before, but it had been a few years. She rested her chin on her hand, staring out the window.

"Yeah?" she murmured into her hand, looking intently outside. She was starting to feel nervous. Perhaps seeing Danny had been a poor idea after all, considering how she'd treated him when she saw him last. "You can stop here…" her stomach was suddenly in knots as she saw the house that had been her intended destination. She hesitated for a moment with her hand on Arcee's door. If this had been a bad idea they were all about to find out.

"I'll wait here and let you know if anything happens," Arcee said, as Allison quietly and slowly got out of the passenger seat and stood facing the dark house.

It was modestly sized, but quaint, with a groomed yard green with life. In the morning sunlight the rich blue of the siding and white trim mixed with the warm orange glow. There wasn't much in the way of decor, aside from the sparse, but neatly maintained brush that lined the gravel path up the deck. A few empty plant boxes framed the small stairway up to the deck itself, where a few empty chairs sat alone in one corner. A wind chime sang soft, melancholy notes on the subtle morning breeze, making it the only sign of inhabitance on the otherwise empty street. Of course it was too early for anyone to be up and around, but it still echoed a painful abandon like painting a picture of a derelict future. Swallowing hard, Allison began her slow walk up the front door.

Stopping once, she looked back long enough to give her thanks to Arcee before continuing onward. Her legs tried to betray her and force her to turn around as she walked up the steps to the door, but she knew that turning away would be stupid now. Biting her lip, she lifted her hand and rang the doorbell.

There was no activity after the first ring, so she rang again. Still, the door did not open, so she banged her fist on the heavy wood. Before she could even listen for footsteps the front door flew open, but the anger of the much disheveled person on the other side quickly melted into mortified shock.

"Hi Danny," Allison whispered, looking down, mostly out of embarrassment. He wasn't quite dressed for the occasion, only wearing a thin shirt and boxers, presumably just having been forced out of bed by her insistence at his door. For a moment he didn't say anything, and they stood in silence for a few minutes before Danny suddenly made a move as if to embrace her. Immediately, Allison stepped back throwing her arms up.  
"Wait, no… don't do that I've basically been sitting around in a sewer for the last few hours so I'm not really-"

"What happened to you?" the brown-haired young man finally blurted, eying her up and down only to catch all the various tears and filth stains on her clothing. Once they finally met eyes and he saw her face decorated with old and fresh cuts, Danny immediately looked as if he was about to start making demands. Allison stopped him.

"Um, later… I… can I come in?" Allison quickly waved him off and started to come inside. Danny moved aside to allow her passage, looking around suspiciously outside as if expecting Allison to not be alone. He hesitated for a moment, presumably seeing Arcee sitting quietly at the sidewalk and looked just as startled as when he'd opened the door. "I want to show you something…" Allison said, moving her hand to the door to help him shut it. Now being inside and both in states that weren't appropriate for entertaining company, things got uncomfortable very fast.

"Don't move." Danny said tersely, taking one last look out one of the small windows that framed the door. He scowled, but then turned away, glancing at Allison with a frown as he dashed up the stairs. Allison hadn't been in his house in a long time, so she took this opportunity to refresh her memory of the surroundings. It was certainly masculine, and fairly void of decoration aside from a few family picture frames here and there. Everything was a mixture of whites and creams, occasionally peppered with different hues of blue and marine that gave the house a very cool, calm atmosphere. The only greens in the immediate area came from the few house plants that sat in large pots in the corners, green and lush with careful care. It was something of a shock to be in such a human, comforting environment after being on the run for so long. She wandered aimlessly around the living room, letting her eyes take in all the details.

A few minutes later Danny came back down the stairs, now dressed in a pair of casual blue jeans. He had in his hand what looked like a small metal box.

"Look, I know this is a bad time, but I-" Allison began, but he waved her into the back of the house where there was a small kitchen and entertainment room. This portion of the house had wide back windows, behind the plush couch and dining table all along the back wall. It was making Allison faintly nervous to have only clear, feeble glass separating herself from a potential oncoming attack. She took a deep breath and sat down on the couch when Danny motioned her over. He looked more upset than Allison had ever seen him at work, or on the rare occasions they'd been social in public, and Danny was not the type to get upset often.

"What happened to you?" he finally asked, after opening up the metal box he'd set on his lap. It was a personal first aid kit. He began unwrapping a few sterile cotton swaps and applied a generous amount of what was presumably some type of disinfectant. Allison jumped as he came forward, not expecting him to actually try and clean her wounds, but she was wound up tight enough to be startled by anything. He hesitated, but watched her passively as if waiting for a response.

"It's complicated…" she said, chewing her lip nervously. She didn't notice that she was rubbing her bandaged hand absently until she looked down, trying to avoid his eyes. "It was probably a mistake coming here," she groaned, standing abruptly as if to leave. Allison started to walk away before the loud snap of the metal first-aid box made her stop and turn. Danny had stood up and was walking towards her. "I... would tell you if I could, but I just can't. Trust me."

"Look, you can't just walk up to my door looking like this," he gestured to her wildly, brow angled in a fierce scowl. "…And expect it to be okay to not tell me what's going on. First you blow me off, then just up and disappear without another word." Now he looked genuinely concerned. "Look, I know we haven't been able to talk much… since high school, but you can still tell me what's happening…"

Allison turned, frowning. She wasn't entirely sure what to tell him, or even how she'd begin. It was all so complicated. Allison tried to work over in her brain how to word things.

"I know I haven't exactly been exactly forthcoming with you lately… and even now I'm being evasive…" she began, still unsure. "But this is quite different. Arkeville was involved in something a little more serious than some backwater mafia or black market dealings."

Danny shook his head, and then looked at her with eyes that could pierce skin. "Were you kidnapped?" he said blandly. Allison flinched.

"Not… exactly…" she started, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "At least not with malicious intent anyway…"

"Well then what is it?" Danny hollered, throwing up an arm. "Why are you here?"

"Well I'm here to show you something if you can stop yelling at me for no reason!" Allison snarled, feeling justifiably flustered. She turned, half-thinking that she would remove herself from the situation despite having nobody else to turn to that wasn't an alien robot. There was a touch on her arm that made her stop.

"Okay wait, look, I'm sorry…" he began. Allison turned to meet him in the eye. "It's just that first you go missing, and then I have to learn from the news that your entire apartment building has just, exploded, then your body was never found, and then the whole company is informed not to come to work because some kind of bomb went off and half the building was destroyed!" Danny looked sincere, and Allison was starting to find it difficult not to tell him. Just being in the presence of another human was actually starting to calm her.

"It wasn't a bomb…" she murmured quietly, blinking..

"How would you know that?" he asked, but he was more suspicious then skeptical.

"Because I was there…" Allison wasn't exactly aware of the expression on her face, but it was sufficient enough to betray her. Suddenly, all the memories of being pursued by Rumble in those tight, enclosed spaces with no real way out came flooding back to her at once. She choked.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" Danny interrupted, but his voice was quiet. He was closer than Allison would have normally felt comfortable with but in her current state of duress she hardly noticed.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she muttered, feeling somewhat foolish. Danny wasn't exactly aversive to the strange and paranormal in the world, but Allison thought this made a lot of his weird obsessions with freak theories and the like look like the town happenings from the local section of the newspaper; uneventful. "I've already said too much. Look, I found Arkeville's journal. I don't know why, but I think he meant for me to find it..." She blinked wearily at him, before pulling the beaten book out of her bag for Danny to examine. He looked between it and her for a moment, as if unsure of her intentions. "I... don't understand it... so I thought you could help me figure out what he was going on about."

Danny grabbed the journal and began to riffle through it, brow furrowed in perplexed interest before he glanced back at her. He motioned to the dining table.

"Sit down. Let me get you some water," Danny said, before turning to set the book on the table as he walked to the kitchen. He grabbed a clear glass from one of the shelves and began to fill it with fresh water from the tap. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Allison said quietly, before turning back to the entertainment room. It was filled with electronics with varying purposes, the most obvious of which the row of computer monitors connected to a flat-panel TV against the wall. Allison never realized how uncomfortable it was possible to feel around inanimate objects, but after learning that one could never truly know what said object actually was underneath, she was feeling it now. She could imagine that any minute now the stereo in the corner would suddenly start shifting with an angry sound of gears and moving parts to reveal piercing red eyes out for murder. She shivered.

Danny placed a hand on her shoulder causing her to jump, and handed her a clear glass full of water. He gave her a questioning look as she took it, averting her eyes as if to stare at the water he'd given her. It looked fresh, and clean, and for once she would be able to enjoy it while not being underground or sitting in a filthy hole in the wall. Allison took it eagerly and let the cold water calm her insides. It tasted surprisingly wonderful on her tongue, and helped to cool her down and clear her head.

Allison watched as Danny riffled through the book, head resting on his fist as he would stop at various pages to give them more of his attention. After a while this endeavor became somewhat boring, having no idea how useful she could possibly be to him while he was thinking. She took to examining the room for anything that looked remotely interesting, but came up sadly empty. It wasn't that he was dull, everything just seemed to mundane to her now. After a while of losing interest Allison decided to rest her head on her arms on the tabletop, where she allowed herself a moment to close her eyes..

Eventually Danny cleared his throat, causing her to look up from her resting spot on the table. He was looking at her with a decisive frown, making her slightly self-conscious.

"Well?" She finally ventured, if only to get him to stop looking at her as if she was the plague. He rubbed at his eyes tiredly, expelling a deep sigh.

"I'm going to need more time than five minutes to flip through this and figure out what was going on. Where did you get this?"

"I found it. He had a storage unit outside of town that was filled with all sorts of crap... this was in a box with my name on it." Allison said, pointing at the book. Danny's brow raised questioningly.

"And how did you find the storage unit?"

"I had a key. Look, does it really matter? I know this is all very evasive, but I just... can't tell you where I've been. It's.. confidential." Allison knew it was a terrible excuse, but she hadn't thought through how exactly she intended to dodge his questioning as to her wherabouts.

"You really are a terrible liar," Danny said, somewhat sarcastically. He put up his hands, as if in defeat. "Fine, if you won't tell me I can live with that, but at least let me help you. You look like crap."

"Thanks," Allison said, actually smiling with the inability to feel insulted. She knew she looked terrible, but she hadn't had time to really take stock of her appearance and care.

"Go take a shower and lie down or something. You also look like you're about to fall over so I'll look at this and you... take a nap. It's 6:30 and you're never awake at this hour." Danny leaned back in his chair, giving her appearance a once-over that only made Allison feel mildly conscious over her shabby looks. A shower would have been nice, especially considering where she'd spent the last few hours sitting. Before she did that though, there was one very important thing to take care of.

"I have to go get something real quick," she lied, standing up from the table and turning to the front of the house. She made it out the door without any protest from Danny behind her, so she was free to walk to Arcee unhindered. The Autobot was exactly where she'd left her, sitting alone, and very pink in front of the house. As if on cue, the door opened as soon as Allison got close enough to climb inside. Feeling somewhat panicked, she hurried and sat down, the door closing with a soft click behind her.

"Cars usually don't open their doors by themselves... you might want to work on that one," Allison hurried with a slight smile.

"That's good to know. Any news?" Arcee said, her voice bright with her own smile in return.

"Not yet, he needs more time... are we in any sort of hurry?" Allison ventured with some hesitation. "I'd like a bit of time myself anyway, to ah, put myself back together."

"Is he cute?"

"That's hardly relevant!" Allison blurted. "Er- he has a shower which is something I've been sorely lacking the past month," she said even as she felt the blush creep across her face. She laughed nervously. "It isn't like that, but he does posses a human dwelling which does make him wildly attractive at the moment."

"Ratchet will survive. You go have fun. You'll know if I'm trying to contact you." Arcee said, leaving Allison to imagine what exactly that would entail and how horrible it would possibly be. She would have to worry about that if the time came, and preferred to set her sights on the prospect of the comforts that awaited her inside.


	34. Finding Solace

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

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After a hot shower, Allison was surprised to find that Danny had laid out a clean shirt and pair of sweat pants for her, having apparently grabbed her tattered clothing and thrown them in the wash. Her shirt was probably beyond the point of saving, but her jeans had only been dirty, so the idea of getting to don a clean pair again seemed like a luxury.

Danny had left her to her own devices, presumably returning to his studies of Arkeville's journal downstairs, letting Allison have the necessary privacy that she wanted. There had been a few moments of hesitation as she stood before his bed, wringing her hair out with a towel. She wondered if she should lie down or not. It felt somehow wrong to lie down on another man's bed, despite how long she had known the guy. Her weariness eventually got the best of her however, and she lay down, grateful to get some rest on something other than a floor.

It couldn't have been long before Allison was eventually woken by Danny entering the room, carrying her neatly folded clothes and the journal tucked under his other arm. Feeling groggy, Allison sat up quickly as the embarrassment of being in his bed quickly overcame her unhappiness at being awake.

"I think I found something," Danny said as he sat down next to her, setting the clothes on her lap. They were still warm from the dryer, and Allison brought them to her face instinctively to enjoy the sensation of the freshly cleaned items. She waited for him to continue. "I don't know why, but a few of these diagrams look exactly like my mini-disc player when I opened it up. These pictures-" He opened the book to show her the diagrams in the back. "-Look exactly like an MP3 player."

Allison paused, thinking. She felt a tendril of familiarity creep up her spine as she remembered placing such an item in her bag. It had been in the very same box with the book, seemingly broken and unimportant at the time. Now, Allison had the fear that it was something much more. She stood and picked up her bag from where she'd dropped it against the wall, and rummaged through it until she found the familiar, thin chunk of plastic and metal. She pulled it out, and turned to Danny with it in her hands, turning it over in some vein attempt to see something remarkable. It looked as dead and unimportant as it had been when she'd put it in there.

"This was with the journal when I found it," Allison said. "I didn't think it was important at the time, but Whee-" She stopped, backtracking as a pulse of panic ripped through her. "-We might have found what he was trying to hide."

Danny did not respond for a moment as he seemed to be thinking, and Allison wondered if she'd let too much slip. Thankfully, he hadn't noticed her blunder, or not having known the context, didn't think anything of it.

"Well, what's up with it then?"

"I don't know, it doesn't work. At least not what I can see." Allison picked up her clothes and went back into the bathroom, shutting the door. She paused at the door, only for a split second, but it was enough to allow a rush of sudden, horrified realization hit her like she'd just been punched in the nose. An electrical sizzle of terror rushed through her, and her hands went numb. This was the Pendulum. This was what the Decepticons were after. This meant she had something hot in her hands, and the very reality of how dangerous it was quickly set in. It was time to go.

Hurriedly, she began to change back into her newly cleaned clothing, eyeing the MP3 player on the bathroom counter as if it would explode should she so much as blink. It felt weird, knowing that something so small had so far caused so much destruction, and just having it in her possession was tremendously horrifying.

"Did you tell anyone else you would be here?" Danny asked from the other side of the door. Allison barely heard him when she responded in the negative, too focused on the small, broken electronic in front of her. "Because there's a white car out front... kind of looks like that one you were with-" The rest of his sentence was cut off as Allison tripped over her own pants, catching herself with a loud thunk against the door. Wheeljack. Crap.

"I have to go. Thank you!" Allison blurted as she shot out of the bathroom after quickly finishing with her clothes, scooping her bag up off the floor as she ran through the upper-part of the house and down the stairs. She was half horrified and half flooded with relief that Wheeljack was alive, but her better senses were telling her that she was about to be in very big trouble if Arcee didn't have her back. She barely heard Danny's protest behind her as she ran through the front door, nearly tripping on the front steps as she saw Wheeljack parked silently behind Arcee.

It was hard to judge his emotion by just looking at him alone, but that uncertainty was quickly overpowered by emotion at seeing Wheeljack. He'd certainly looked like he'd had better days, but he was there, tangible and real and Allison couldn't have been happier. She tried in vein not to let her emotion show through as she rubbed at her face, stopping at the end of the walkway to take him in.

"Wheeljack... you're..." Allison started, but paused when she realized that there were now two cars outside Danny's house... and only one apparent driver. There was no feasible explanation for why the two Autobots were here, but before Allison could work up any workable reason Wheeljack's passenger door opened without a word.

Allison was about to jump in of her own eagerness without another look back at the house, until a blast of hot air from Wheeljack made her recoil back. His sudden venting took her by surprise, and she could feel a tense energy from him descend upon her like a wave. That's when she heard the noise of someone stepping off of their porch behind her.

"Wheeljack," came Arcee's terse, surprisingly audible reply like a warning. Allison froze for a moment, feeling Danny's presence behind her, but not wanting to believe it. He'd seen something.

"What's going on Allison?" Danny's voice was sullen behind her, and Allison slowly turned to meet him. He was standing at the bottom of his porch, still holding Arkeville's journal in his hand. "You forgot this..." he added, expression even as if he was speaking two different conversations at once. Allison stepped up to him slowly, head bowed.

"I did, thanks," she said hurriedly. She was about to turn, until Danny touched her arm, holding her firmly. There was a pregnant pause as the reality of being caught in a corner descended upon her. Turning to look at the hidden Autobot behind her, she received no direction as to how to get out of this. There was nothing they could do.

"I've got two cars here, and one driver. How did they get here?" It was as if he knew; had already been putting the pieces together from the very start. Allison didn't look back at him, but knowing Wheeljack could see her expression, she frowned. It was hard to make sense of her own emotions at that moment. She was tense not just for Wheeljack being exposed, but due to her own impulsive need to be with him and see how he was. He'd been unconscious the last time she'd seen him, and she wasn't stupid enough to think that this wasn't stressful even for him. It was too much for the wounded Autobot to take now.

"I'm sorry... I have to tell him..."

"Tell me what? Who are you talking to?"

"He knows something's up... I can't..."

There was an audible gasp near her as Wheeljack's door snapped shut, perhaps in response to her own admissions. Allison got a weird sense that she'd just been snubbed, like having a door slammed in one's face at the conclusion of an argument. She had a very physical reaction to this, her stomach dropping with disappointment, but it was hard to blame Wheeljack. He'd probably come here for her, and to have this dropped on his lap was like an additional punch in the face; a rude awakening. Considering his misplaced lack of trust in Danny, Wheeljack was probably feeling neglected, and Allison hated for him to feel that way.

All secrecy was thrown out the window as Wheeljack literally pulled forward around Arcee and drove away with a lurch of a powerful engine. Allison watched him go with a sense of mortification, barely hearing Danny speak behind her.

"Did that car just..."

"I need to tell you something," Allison blurted, turning to Danny's shocked, but somehow exhilarated expression of knotted confusion. He looked back at her, catching her eyes, breath seeming to still as if waiting for her to continue. "That wasn't a car... and neither is she." Allison pointed to the pink and black Autobot who had so far remained silent. She didn't know if Arcee was upset, but it was too late now. If Allison hadn't blown it by talking to open air, Wheeljack had by driving away with no sign of a driver.

"W-what?"

"You might want to sit down," Allison muttered, pushing Danny back towards the steps of the porch and forcing him down onto the top step. He practically fell backwards, catching himself on the wooden boads of the porch.

"H-hey, what's going on with you?"

"You're probably not going to believe me if I tell you, but you've already seen them, so I just... have to get this off my chest right now..."

"You're not making any sense right now Allison..." Danny said, leaning back as if in recoil, like her very presence was something to be afraid of. Allison had to keep her voice low should anyone in the houses around them be listening. It was quiet, almost too quiet.

"You know I'm not the type of person with the greatest imagination. I never have been..." Danny nodded in assent, his eyes wary but they betrayed his eager interest. It seemed more crucial to tell him the most obvious stuff that mattered, and not linger on the details. Those could come later, and after all, she didn't know how much longer her borrowed time would last.

"And you know that I'll believe just about everything, right?" There was a welcome flash of boyish bravado that passed across his face for just the slightest of moments, but it was there. Allison was surprised at how much she'd missed seeing it on a daily basis, and she flushed.

"Yeah I know," she rolled her eyes, looking around nervously while she tried to force a small smile. "You remember the white car that was following me around? The one that was just here... is the same car..." Danny nodded mutely, and for a moment there was a look of puzzlement on his face akin to disbelief. Wheeljack had changed forms, and while he looked the same to Allison having spent so much time with him, to anyone else he likely passed off as another car. The confusion remained on Danny's face for only another moment, before understanding dawned on his features and his expression evened.

"What about it?" His question wasn't so much one of interest, but more of a demand.

"Well, turns out it was… or isn't really a car… or, I guess I should say he… isn't really a car."

"He?" Danny rubbed his face with a hand, dark hair falling over his face obscuring his true expression. Allison didn't know how to read the look in just his eyes alone, but she was afraid she was going to lose him. Surprisingly he didn't say anything, or ask any questions when Allison risked a pause to try and gauge his reaction. He looked back at her with the clear assumption that there must be more, but he looked very uncertain. One eye brow was slightly raised, and he was frowning.

Allison had known him long enough to at least think that she understood him well enough to be able to word the situation in terms that he'd accept. It wasn't exceptionally hard, since being the geeky type he'd always been interested in things that were above normal. But this wasn't just the stories and rumors in the books and sci-fi magazines that she remembered him buried under in high school. This was the real deal, and far from an adventurous fairy tale. While she'd never really believed or had been interested in his stories, they had been friends enough that she'd been able to hold polite conversations with him about it. She'd never expected that at any point she'd be the one trying to convince Danny that something weird was happening.

"Look, let me finish and then you can go back inside or whatever after I'm done, but just listen to me, okay? It wasn't a car… or, isn't a car…" Allison cringed, knowing the words were about to come out. "He's… an alien robot?"

Danny looked blank, but shockingly nonplussed.

"Say that again?"

"Look," Allison huffed, and then sat down on the step next to him. "Arkeville apparently was doing something for these… robots… and they're just like us, except, huge, like two-story tall type big… but they weren't created by anyone here… they came here from another planet and they've been hiding here ever since..."

"How is that even-" Danny started to question, but Allison stopped him, turning his head to look at the Autobot who still sat silently on the road. She didn't want to point and make things anymore obvious than they already were.

"That is Arcee. She's an Autobot. She may not look like much now, but she's in disguise. They can disguise themselves as any kind of machine they want to apparently, and have been for a long time..." Arcee didn't move, and was sitting quietly as if nothing was amiss, but Allison had the weird prickling sensation that the Autobot had no trouble hearing them.

"Allison… what have you gotten yourself into?" Danny said faintly now looking a weird cross between horrified and disbelieving. Allison wasn't really sure how much she'd get him to understand but she had to try. At least, it felt better to finally tell someone and not have to keep such a huge secret bottled up inside. She didn't know how he'd feel about her after this, and frankly if she were in his position she'd probably throw herself into the hospital and trash the key.

"I… don't know…" Allison groaned, putting her head in her hands. "But I didn't really have a choice. He was following me because they thought… that Arkeville might try and contact me with information… and he did. I've been all over this side of the state hunting for that stupid MP3 player, and it's broken. Great, huh?" Allison mumbled into her knees, massaging her temples methodically. She looked up at Danny painfully. "But there are bad ones… very bad, violent robots that followed the good ones here, and they're trying to find the same thing." Allison paused to take a shaky breath, thinking hard on the memories of mere hours before. She shuddered, then shot up to a stand and started to babble without realizing what she was doing. "One of them is a freaking jet Danny, a godamned jet and it touched me, and –"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down…" Danny stood to stop Allison's frantic pacing, hands holding her trembling arms steady. He bit his lower lip with uncertainty, and looked away, but continued to hold her. "So… these… aliens knew who Arkeville was, and he had something the bad and the good ones want to find… but he disappeared… so now nobody knows where he is?" Allison nodded mutely. "Why did he disappear?"

"I don't know…" Allison whispered. "I'm… sorry… I brought this to you… I didn't know where else to go…"

"Allison… did they…" Danny hesitated, his eyes catching Allison's uncomfortably. He seemed to be having a particularly difficult time forming the sentence on his lips, but he looked like a glass about to spill over with the need to say what was on his mind. "…experiment on you?"

"No!" Allison jumped with a start, causing Danny to move his hands away from her in surprise. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at such a thought. It was almost insulting, but she knew that Danny still likely had very little clue as to the reality of what she was divulging to him. All he had to go on where the rumors that humans had created over the centuries with varying degrees of believable evidence. "That's absurd… Wheeljack has been protecting me…" He was raising an eyebrow at her. "The white car. His name is Wheeljack. He came here to watch me, but he was followed by the bad ones… Arcee is a friend." Allison inclined her head to the Autobot, then frowned. "He got hurt… fighting one of them… he was unconscious, so I didn't expect him to come for me. Ratchet is one of their, uh, doctors…"

Danny had paled, and he backed away slowly as if she was something to suddenly be feared; Like she was crazy. Allison tried to get some idea of what he was thinking by studying his face, by looking at the glassy confusion in his eyes. But all she could see was disturbed shock, and maybe even a mild case of terror. Allison didn't know if the terror was a product of her lunatic story, or the content of her splurging. It didn't really matter anymore.

"What happened to your apartment then?" Danny said quietly. Allison couldn't tell if he was just humoring her.

"Starscream–I mean–the jet… destroyed it… I think he did it just to mess with us…" Allison swallowed hard, forcing the memories back down.

"Then what happened at work?"

"I was in Arkeville's office trying to find something and somehow they tracked me… one of them has these little robots that are like infiltrators. Well, they aren't really little, don't make the same mistake believing that load of crap like I did… but they're little compared to the others. They tried to capture me… but Arcee helped me escape." Allison bit her lip. "I'm sorry Dan, I just didn't know where else to go. I needed help."

"But aren't they supposed to be protecting you?"

"Yes."

"But that one just drove off..."

"Wheeljack is very sensitive." Allison started with a rough sigh. "I don't think he likes you very much." Truthfully she wasn't sure why she said it, but it slipped. It was the truth after all.

"The sensitive robot doesn't like me? I can't imagine..."

"I'm serious Danny, he has feelings, just like you and me. I don't know why, but I think it's just his weird way of showing that he's watching, you know? He doesn't know you, so he's just concerned." Allison paused, not wanting to add that she thought Wheeljack was jealous of the human, even if she couldn't understand why herself. "I think if he actually talked to you, you might-"

"Stop." Danny said with a start, suddenly disturbed. Allison thought she'd finally said too much for him to grasp, but she hadn't been able to help herself. She watched him suspiciously; he was staring straight at her, unmoving.

"What? I-"

Then she heard it, a soft rumbling of an engine like a warning. Turning, she saw that Arcee had moved, and her door was open in clear invitation.

"Okay you two, let's go."

"Is something wrong?" Allison turned to Arcee, suddenly wondering if she should be alarmed. There was a sublte laugh from the Autobot, and Allison felt Danny stiffen near her in what must have been disbelief.

"No, but we're being hailed. Bring him too," the Autobot replied, and Allison turned to look at Danny, who had gone rather pale at having the talking car refer to him directly. Allison tried to smile at him.

"It's fine, really. I think you should come with... if something is coming it's probably for the best. Besides, I guess you know their secret now..." Arcee's door was still open, and Allison walked with an eerie calm towards the Autobot, as if this had suddenly become common practice. Danny's steps weren't quite as easy, and Allison found herself pulling him along.

She wondered if Arcee was angry at her for giving away their secret. If she was, the Autobot didn't show it. She didn't seem the sort to get particularly angry, but then Allison didn't really know her all that well enough to be sure.

"Am I supposed to..." Danny hesitated once they made it to the door, and Allison looked at him sympathetically. She'd forgotten how timid she'd been the first time she'd driven with Wheeljack, and how weird of an experience it had been. She'd gotten so used to it, it was almost like it was now taken for granted. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Yes, you get in, like a car. She isn't going to bite you."

"She?"

"Yes, of course" Arcee laughed, and there was no unpleasantness in her voice as she spoke. "Now get in. We need to move." Allison thought she saw Danny jump when Arcee spoke, but he tried to hide his discomfort by standing stiffly. Allison rested a hand on his shoulder and nodded to him before she climbed into the passenger side and with an awkward clamor of limbs slid into the driver seat. Leaning over, Alison motioned for Danny to get inside, trying to look encouraging.

"Come on! This might even be kind of exciting for you..."

"Allison..."

"Listen, I know this is hard, but we need to get moving. You're privileged with some pretty big information now, and the sooner we can better explain this to you, the better. Besides, Optimus Prime shouldn't be kept waiting." Arcee said, and Allison had to do a double-take on the words she heard, because she was pretty sure that there was something horrifying about that last statement.

"Wait... here? H-he's here as in right now?"

"Yes, they're waiting for us. Wheeljack will be there too." The last statement was almost an afterthought, but delivered with a softness that made Allison think Arcee was insinuating Wheeljack would be there in more than just the physical sense. Allison hoped it meant that Arcee knew he would behave, and not be the petulant child that she knew was a distinctive possibility. Allison didn't think she could stomach that, and was in no mood to argue with Wheeljack after everything that had happened. She wanted to spend time with him, not fight with him.

"Danny, get in." Allison said forcefully, partially terrified at leaving Optimus Prime waiting, and stunned given the fact that she hadn't had time to mentally prepare for meeting the Autobot leader. It had been a nagging fear in the back of her mind for a while, and now he was here, and it was too late to freak out about it now.

Danny thankfully didn't argue, and feeling Allison's insistence as something more than impatience he dropped awkwardly into the seat. He tried to make himself as tiny as possible as the door shut behind him, careful not to touch any more than he physically needed to. Allison tried to give him an encouraging smile that she knew he barely saw. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to do with his hands when Arcee started moving. For a moment Danny held his breath as Arcee turned around, back the direction they came from. It had been nice to spend even just a few hours in a real bed, in a real house, and already she was having to leave it behind. The things one had to give up in the name of adventure...

Allison reached over and touched Danny's hand reassuringly. She wasn't sure what she could really say to be reassuring, because there was really nothing. It wasn't an easy task to make someone comfortable with gigantic robots from space.

"Ratchet and Prime won't hurt you, but I don't know about Wheeljack..." Arcee said, with some note of laughter in her voice. While on any other occasion Allison would have found that funny, it wasn't the best time to be joking about bodily harm.

"That doesn't help Arcee, thanks..."

"I'm kidding. He wouldn't hurt a fly." Allison had a real hard time believing that was true in this case, regardless oh how much she wanted to believe that. Danny didn't seem to have absorbed that part of the conversations at all, as he was too busy trying to make himself smaller in the seat next to her.

"I do have to prepare you though... they're big... so just be ready for that. It took me a few weeks to get used to it..." Allison didn't think she was being encouraging, because Danny didn't respond the entire time they drove. It took Allison a while to realize that they had driven back to the drainage pipe, and while she felt no joy in being back at such a filthy place, she was eager to see what had happened to Wheeljack. That was assuming he would speak to her.

Allison jumped out of Arcee first, sparing a moment to pull Danny out of the passenger seat in case he ended up being too terrified to get out. Knowing that Arcee would likely transform, she figured she would save the Autobot the trouble of pushing him out. Thankfully the immediate area was clear of giant robots, so it helped to buffer the shock, until Arcee transformed.

Danny recoiled back, instinctively backing Allison into a tree as if he thought he needed to protect her. Allison squeaked in protest as her back slammed into the rough trunk, clinging to Danny's shoulder to keep herself from falling past the tree and onto the ground. The comparatively smaller Autobot simply gave him an affectionate stare of understanding and smiled, waving her hand.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, but there may be some initial shock…" Arcee said teasingly. "Although if you tell anyone that you've seen this, I'll have to hunt you down." Allison knew that Arcee was joking, mostly, but she heard Danny swallow hard with an audible squelch. He relaxed after a moment of silence, the only noise the muffled voices of the other Autobots inside the broken pipe. This was what had Allison's attention more than anything, because she could hear the distinctive vocals that bore the kind of expressive confidence that could only come from Wheeljack.

That was interrupted by an audible clang, followed by the bellowing growl of what could only be Ratchet, his snarling indiscernible as a third voice spoke from within the darkness. This was one that Allison did not recognize, but it was very deep, and seemed to rumble from within the entire cave itself.

"Wait here," Allison said, squeezing Danny's shoulder as he turned to her with a protest in his eyes. She silenced him with a finger to her lips. "Uh.. hang out with Arcee."

"Wait, here?"

"Yes... let's hang out!" Arcee parroted, perhaps not quite understanding the term, but she looked at the terrified man with an expression of compassion. It almost looked as if Arcee was enjoying scaring Danny half to death.

"I'll be right back..." Allison said, before she wriggled out from behind Danny and turned to the cave. She paused, the unpleasantness of such a foul place returning to her briefly before it being forgotten entirely when she heard Wheeljack speak. This time his words were entirely audible.

"I had to! You try sitting in one place with that slagging- Allison! You're here and you're alri-argh!" There was a snap and a bright spark of light as something within his opened shoulder ignited. Wheeljack's entire body seized from his seat on the ledge in the back, eyes squinting in pain, bathing him in momentary darkness as their glow was briefly snuffed out. He was still missing his arm, with Ratchet leaning close as he tried to re-attach the limb. "You did that on purpose!" he wailed to Ratchet, trying to inch away before the medic grabbed Wheeljack by the speech panel and yanked him back.

"I wouldn't dream of such a thing."

Wheeljack was doing a nice job of making Ratchet's job harder with his squirming, which elicited a generous amount of cursing from Ratchet. Wheeljack's eyes were glowing intensely, which made her notice when his gaze shifted from her, to something immediately to her right. Allison hadn't noticed the shadowed presence there until it moved.

A crunch made Allison jerk with surprise, and she turned, her gaze immediately drifting upward to behold the daunting image of who could only be Optimus Prime. The tall, looming stance and powerful build exuded power, but the glowing blue eyes that were already trained on her held a warm understanding. From what she'd heard of Optimus Prime, there was no mistaking that this was the Autobot leader.

What Allison immediately saw, was that he also appeared to be wearing some kind of face mask. It covered the lover portion of his face just under the panels of the nose, much like Wheeljack's, but much more angular and aggressive looking. Allison was finding it hard trying to decipher his expression, because his piercing eyes were a little more difficult to read then Wheeljack's. It was possible she'd just gotten used to Wheeljack's face always being obscured, so she'd learned to read his eyes, but these new eyes were proving to be foreign.

Regardless of Optimus Prime's mood, Allison found that she didn't quite know what to say, or how to address someone who clearly held so much power. The lump in her throat was keeping her from speaking. She didn't have to wait long, for the mask he wore suddenly retracted with a soft click of moving parts, revealing the face underneath.

"Hello Allison." Optimus Prime began, and while powerful, his voice was soft, almost conversational. Despite his softness, each word rumbled like a deep baritone, vibrating her very core. It made her waver with hesitation. "I should have liked to meet in slightly less troubling circumstances, but here we are none the less..."

"Hi..." Allison mumbled, gasping inwardly with a start. "...Sir." Fearing she'd just made a huge,  
disrespectful error she waited with bated breath for Optimus Prime to respond. His humanoid face was much like Ratchet's, except different enough that she could see the subtle differences in shape, form and texture. It was enough to give the necessary cues that this was a different individual. Such identifying characteristics, which all this time had seemed so unique to humans, now seen in a completely alien, robotic species was something she still wasn't quite used to. Surprisingly, Optimus Prime actually looked amused, his mouth turned in what could only be a surprised smile.

"I promise you there is no need for such formalities, Allison. I am no more deserving of such an honor than you or your friend... I promise I won't bite." He actually smiled then, but Allison was still hesitant to smile back, despite the obvious humor intended in his final comment. She was shocked to notice how young he appeared, despite such wizened poise and authority. Optimus Prime's face did not have the same appearance of age and wear that Ratchet's did, but she knew that didn't mean he was any less capable. Perhaps he just held it differently. He certainly had his own share of what appeared to be the remnants of damage acquired over the long years. "Now, about your friend..."

"I... I'm sorry, about that... Optimus Prime I..." In her awe over meeting the Autobot leader she'd  
momentarily forgotten about Danny with Arcee outside. Allison found it frustrating that she was feeling so significantly tongue-tied, and unable to coherently explain herself. Standing there looking up at someone who held so much commanding power, yet from words that had been spoken, had so much compassion and selflessness, was humbling.

"Optimus by itself is perfectly sufficient. Prime is merely a title, and there are no titles between friends." He rumbled softly, the comfort in his voice apparent as if they were having conversation  
over tea. Allison was thunderstruck admittedly not expecting to be spoken to as an equal, much less a friend. She tried to distract herself from the uncomfortable silence by looking around, and saw Wheeljack watching her while Ratchet appeared to be finishing the final adjustments on his newly attached arm. She felt immense relief and warmth fill her as she saw Wheeljack alive and back in one piece, but the feeling quickly vanished and she went cold as she realized that Wheeljack was not looking as thrilled as she was.

Wheeljack looked angry, his countenance all the more intensified by the damage and wear all over his body from his last battle. It just made him a miserable sight, and with a dropping heart Allison knew exactly why Wheeljack looked so incensed.

Ironically, Ratchet must have sensed this discomfort as he gave Allison a sideways glance before snapping something into place on Wheeljack's arm. The Autobot jerked, and instinctively broke his piercing gaze from Allison to look at Ratchet.

"Flex your hand," Ratchet muttered, and Wheeljack obeyed by lifting his arm and moving his hand, testing each finger with careful attention. It almost looked like he was intentionally avoiding her stare. Allison was feeling regrettably a little disappointed that she had received little more than an irritated glare from Wheeljack after he'd nearly been killed, so she reluctantly turned her eyes skyward back to Optimus Prime.

"Um, his name is Daniel. He's a friend." Allison took care to give Wheeljack a knowing glare of her own, and she thought she saw his brow twitch in response despite the fact that he wasn't looking at her. She felt a healthy satisfaction as she turned back to Optimus, who meanwhile had gotten down on one knee with a whir of moving parts. Allison stepped back feeling slightly cornered. "I needed his help with understanding what was in Arkeville's journal... I trust him, and-" Allison was rudely interrupted.

"Trust? Trust? You've not nearly lived long enough to be able to trust him." Wheeljack had  
apparently decided that it was his turn to enter the conversation, much to Allison's displeasure at his interruption. "It appears that I cannot leave you alone for one whole cycle, much less five of your earth minutes before-"

"I've known him for years, long before you ever stumbled into my life. I've known you for one month, so explain to me how I'm supposed to trust some big-eared, stumbling idiot who can't even properly explain to me how he destroyed my car." Feeling somewhat offended that her judgement of character was being criticized, Allison felt the irrational need to snap at him, despite her more deeper desires for Wheeljack to just shut up so she could actually appreciate his presence again. She was feeling stressed reduced to fighting with him like she was having a quarrel with a sibling.

"That idiot can't help you, and he can't be trusted Prime." Wheeljack was speaking so fast that his panels were simply emitting a static, searing red, a clear sign that Allison came to understand as him being angry. Ratchet looked as if he was about to say something, but Wheeljack rounded on him, causing the medic to jerk back. "And you let her go."

"For Primus' sake Wheeljack..." Ratchet's defeated mutter did not daunt the engineer, who looked uncharacteristically ready to punch the other Autobot in the face.

"If you want to talk about being an idiot, I seem to recall this brilliant plan you had a while back to get us out of here. Oh wait Autobot, how did that go? I have yet to end up blown up with a gaping hole where my arm should be." Allison immediately regretted saying it when Wheeljack turned to her with a startled expression, bordering on hurt, before his eyes narrowed darkly.

"Thanks to me!" Wheeljack stuttered in counter, his eyes glowing with anger. It was not hard to miss the fact that Ratchet looked rather uncomfortable being so close and bearing witness to such a display of childish candor, but the medic was being uncharacteristically neutral at the moment. Allison found she couldn't stop the hurt she was feeling from guiding her words, born from the fuel of Wheeljack's lack in compassion.

"It's so nice to know you're happy to see me, you bumbling mouthless moron-"

"Mouthless? Mouthless? Why you ungrateful little-" The sudden flare of distraught offense on  
Wheeljack's face made Allison cringe as her stomach dropped with regret, but it was too late to take it back.

"Enough." Optimus Prime shocked them into silence with only the firmness of his voice, and a  
surprisingly calm look in Wheeljack's direction. Allison swallowed, realizing that she's just made  
herself look like an idiot in front of the Autobot leader, the one who had been compassionate enough to send Wheeljack to her in the first place. She must have appeared so ungrateful.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate of me..." Allison whispered, looking down. She clasped her hands together and let her arms hang slack. Looking back at Wheeljack, who was doing a good job of looking at everything but her. She opened her mouth to apologize but the words didn't come. She simply stood there, gazing at him for some kind of encouragement that everything was alright, but he didn't look. After a few frustrating minutes of nothing, Allison turned back to Optimus Prime.

"I thought that he could help me figure out what Arkeville was trying to hide. I didn't understand what he was talking about in his journal, and he figured it out. Ratchet didn't know, and Wheeljack... was not really around to help." Optimus Prime had returned his soft azure gaze back to her with a look of immediate understanding. "It was worth it." Allison took the broken MP3 player out of her bag, and handed it to Optimus Prime. He reached out with gentle hands in inquiry, taking the device from her with two massive fingers. "This is what he was trying to hide. This is the Pendulum." It felt somewhat liberating to not have such a desired object in her possession any longer, and she gave it up eagerly.

Allison knew exactly why Wheeljack was upset, and it was because he was likely feeling inadequate. Her need to be in another person's company, and this part was just a  
guess, another male's company, was like hacking away at his currently shattered confidence with a dull ice-pick. It was pitiful in its simplicity, but she had to look back and remember that day that now felt like such a long time ago. The day from the post office where the mere presence of Danny had brought Wheeljack to such a level of unwarranted distrust and animosity towards the man that it bordered on paranoia.

Perhaps the very idea of Wheeljack being jealous of another human being was why Allison was having such a hard time coping with what she thought was a ludicrous and completely unwarranted attitude. It was completely absurd, after all. He was a thirty-foot tall robot that was undoubtedly fearless in the face of physical danger, and could probably crush and destroy anything he wished. But this same robot apparently was feeling, in that oddly self-conscious and needy mind of his, that he had to compete for Allison's attention. And that was why Allison had to somehow come to grips and respect that, which was something she had failed to do back at the post office, and she was failing to do now.

When it came to matters of the heart, Wheeljack just wasn't quite as fearless. In fact, he was very much a child.

Allison looked back at Optimus Prime's level gaze, which hadn't changed. She turned back to Wheeljack and frowned.

"I'm glad to see you're okay..."

Turning, Allison felt the need to walk away, knowing that the irony in her words, while sincere, was probably lost on Wheeljack. She'd let them work out the next step on their own, since they clearly didn't need her for anything.

Danny was still with Arcee, looking very uncomfortable while to Autobot chatted away next to him. His arms were folded tightly, and as soon as he saw Allison emerge from the pipe and begin the trek towards him, he walked towards her with an expression of unbridled relief on his face. She gave him a forced smiled, despite only wanting at that moment to be alone so she could internally curse Wheeljack to damnation in privacy. That would unfortunately have to wait.

"What he hell Allison?" he growled, coming up close. "What are you doing here? This is not where you're supposed to be..."

"I... I don't know." Truth be told, she didn't know what she was supposed to do, not anymore. Perhaps Danny was right. Maybe she needed to get out and move on. But all she felt  
at that moment was frustration. At Danny for being so damn intrusive, at Optimus Prime for being so blindingly polite about the whole mess, and most especially at Wheeljack. His indifference had been nothing short of an insult.

But one thing was certain through the haze, and that was the fact that she needed to make sure  
Danny got out of this first. She didn't want to deal with the repercussions of getting him involved, and potentially killed, so she knew he had to go. Convincing him of the same was going to be hard, but she had a feeling that the Autobots would agree with her, at least on this.

"You're parents still have that house on the coast, right?" Allison said, lifting her head to look at him. He was standing only a few feet away, arms crossed and looking uneasy at the question.

"Yes, what's your point?"

Allison took the two steps necessary to get close to him. "You need to go there..." she said in a half-whisper, her voice laden with very little inflection in her voice. "You can't stay here Danny..."

"What, and leave you here? I don't-" Allison stopped him abruptly.

"It's too late for me Danny," she shook her head roughly. "The bad ones know me, and if I try to run I have a feeling they'll follow me, but you..." she paused, staring unseeing at the endless rows of hay and shipping crates around them. "...They don't know you... They don't know you've been involved have no reason to go after you..." she hesitated, trying to choose her words carefully and hoping to God that her assumptions were correct. She knew in her heart that this was the right thing to do, regardless of any selfish need to have him around that she might have. Every second he was with her right now, he was in danger, as Heaven knew the shooting could start at any moment and experience had taught her that. She couldn't live that kind of guilt. Quite simply, he had to run, and hide until the smoke cleared.

"Allison..." he said softly. There was more care in his voice at that moment than she'd ever heard before, perhaps born out of concern, or suspicion, or something else. It didn't really matter.

"Please do this for me... I'm begging you..." she looked down, hands limp at her sides. Danny didn't respond, but she knew it was because he was distracted. She heard a heavy thud behind her, followed by a chorus of following steps as massive bodies emerged from the broken pipe. Danny inhaled a sharp breath of air at the sight, seeing the much more massive Autobots for the first time. Turning, Allison saw no malice in their eyes, at least in the case of Optimus Prime. He looked... very kind.

It was hard to discern the expression on Ratchet's face, though it leaned towards one of indifference. Wheeljack on the other hand looked somehow massive. It took Allison a double-take to realize what she was seeing, and it took her double that too come to terms with how she was seeing Wheeljack look almost double his normal size. For a moment she was actually scared, until it dawned on her that it was just a visual trick. He was literally puffed out at the seams, his armor plates extended outwards giving him a slightly swollen appearance. His back fins were fully rotated upwards, almost completely vertical. She knew that to Danny he probably looked terrifying, which was likely the idea. To Allison, well he looked pathetic, puffed up like a competing peacock ready to lay claim to something. It would have been irritating, if Allison didn't know Wheeljack enough to realize that he was being protective, albeit in a very bizarre way.

"Come on sweetling, we need to all have a little chat." Arcee cut the reverie as she snuck up on them, grasping Danny by the shoulder making him jump. "We're friends. Promise." As if on cue, Ratchet and Optimus Prime thudded forward with heavy steps. Arcee pulled Danny away with a knowing glance in her direction. Confused, Allison realized that Wheeljack had not followed them. He remained at the mouth of the pipe, armor plates relaxed, staring at her expectantly. It was then that she realized her wanted her to follow him.

With a heavy sigh, Allison began the long walk of shame towards the white Autobot, eyes flicking around at everything but him. He walked back into the pipe, clearly expecting her to follow him. Allison was surprised to find herself hesitate, not because she feared him, but because she feared the conversation that was to come. She was in no mood for any more arguments. Unfortunately it was hard to outrun let alone hide from a thirty foot tall robot, and if there was anything she'd learned from Wheeljack, she'd learned that he was stubborn enough to say exactly what was on his mind. What a pair, she thought miserably.

Once they were within the confines of the musty cave, Allison took the task of walking past Wheeljack to the back ledge. She sat down on the ground, cringing at the cold feel of the ground beneath her, but she was able to ignore it by focusing on the prickling of Wheeljack's weighted stare against her skin like a particularly strong ray of sunlight.

Allison was trying her hardest to beat down his own stubborn barriers with indifference, but the longer she waited, the more restless she became. It had probably only been a few minutes, but it was feeling like forever, even though it was likely only a blip of time to Wheeljack. Hell, he had plenty of time to stand around and wait for her, but she didn't.

Begrudgingly, she finally looked up as the battle of wills came to a close.

"What?" She asked, more edge in her voice than she intended. It was hard to process her feelings with a giant robot starting her down from the darkness. Rather than the rage she'd expected to see, his glowing eyes were clearly drooped in a frown. It wasn't just any frown  
though, it was more than that. It was fear, guilt and sadness all mixed into one, and it looked damn near pathetic like a puppy begging for forgiveness after an accident. Allison  
let her face soften and frowned back at him, but she felt an overwhelming weight leave her at the same time. Wheeljack did not want to fight.

Wheeljack shifted, his eyes turning down to the ground as if to take stock of any obstructions in his path before he got down. Watching with curiosity, Allison waited for Wheeljack to say something as he knelt in close to her, causing her to lean all the way back against the cold, concrete ledge. Had he come any closer, their noses would have likely touched.

Allison couldn't decide if she should feel uncomfortable or touched by this display, but it didn't matter. She wondered if he was just trying to look at her more closely, but she knew he didn't need to actually be close to see her well. After all, his vision was much more acute than hers would ever be, so she doubted distance played a factor. It was more likely that it was Wheeljack's awkward attempt to be more intimate, whatever that meant.

"I am glad you're okay, because I didn't know" he said meekly, with some emphasis. His panels blinked softly in rhythm. Allison sighed, blinking rapidly against the intermittent glare against her eyes as he spoke.

"Me too." She said lightly, trying to offer him a smile. She could feel as much as hear the current of air from beneath his battle mask as he seemed to sigh with content. "And I guess I owe you big time." Her eyes traveled to his shoulder, where the rocket had once been, and her brow tightened as she felt her eyes water. Wheeljack's eyes went alight for only a moment, noticing this, and he softened.

"Eh, forget it... I've been in worse shape." He paused, considering his words, and she could read the concentration in his eyes. "I was merely concerned, and... perhaps fear of the unknown left me mentally misaligned. I did not know what had happened to you when I had woken."

"You're pretty scary when you're angry... and you get big like that. You look dangerous." Allison frowned with genuine concern. Wheeljack's eyes widened for a moment in alarm, as if he was just now processing what he took her words to mean. He seemed to stutter.

"I would never hurt you..." He choked, or the robotic equivalent to such an action. Allison could hear it from deep within his throat, the jerking wheeze of moving parts reacting to whatever inside him passed for emotional stimuli. It was always an entirely different experience talking to him up close, because she could hear everything. She didn't think it would ever be anything less than disconcerting.

"I know." Allison said, "But Danny doesn't know that," she said with a half-smile. It was a cruel thing to joke about, but she couldn't help it. Danny wasn't in any immediate danger, and thankfully Wheeljack took the joke as such. He smiled, eyes narrowing in pleasure.

"Can I keep it that way?"

"You can be a real monster, you know that?"

Wheeljack laughed lightly, and it vibrated the air around her. It was a pleasant feeling, very soft and inviting. It made Allison smile inwardly, appreciating the glow of his happiness.

Allison turned her attention to the obvious signs of repair on his shoulder, and curiosity compelled her to move towards him. She remembered that Ratchet had said it could potentially take a few days to fix him, but what she saw was about as close to perfection as he could manage in such a surprisingly short time. She almost felt bad for Ratchet, knowing how much work he'd accomplished in so little time.

"He did an incredible job," Allison breathed, taking a chance and bringing her hand up to touch the mended plating of Wheeljack's shoulder. How he'd managed to re-attach the bundle of wiring that passed for his joint was completely beyond her, but it had been done, leaving nearly no trace that anything had been wrong at all. That was, except for the obvious places where Wheeljack's upper body had been repaired; the torn, bent pieces of white metal where his shoulder weapon had been, and where his arm had met his body had been welded back together. It looked nearly perfect, but there were the visual signs of repair that spidered along his body like raised scarring. Allison ran her hands along them lovingly, not sure why she was so compelled to touch. "Can you feel this?"

"Yes," came his muted reply, his head slightly turned towards her. He flinched suddenly as her fingers rested over a particularly raised lump of repaired plating, and Allison stopped. Then it hit her all at once. All this damage, all of these repairs and possibly even permanent scaring, was because of her. If he hadn't been trying to protect her, he would have never been lying unconscious in that cold cave with a severed, bleeding arm, and he wouldn't have the scarring as a reward.

Overcome with emotion, she rested her head against the scars and wept. Wheeljack didn't move, perhaps to give her peace, or maybe he thought it was comforting to remain there in silence. He let her carry on, for who knew how long, not making any sound save for the soft rumbling from within his chest that created vibrations along his frame. It was almost like he was purring. Whatever it was, she knew it was his wordless offerings of comfort and understanding. She would take it.

* * *

**02/27/2011 - The last few chapters saw some heavy changes and things getting removed and shuffled. I think it read better. I also think crying is completely warranted in this case after all the hell Wheeljack has been through.  
**


	35. Dearest Departure

**(c) Hasbro/Takara  
**

**This is a long one, so have a snack ready. Preferably bacon.  
**

* * *

****

"I... need to tell you something..." Allison finally sniffed, pulling her face away after realizing there were more pressing issues than her own emotional guilt. She rubbed her eyes awkwardly with a dirty sleeve and stepped back so that she could face Wheeljack again. He was looking at her, head tilted slightly, with what was possibly pity in his eyes, waiting for her to continue. "The Pendulum... It was that MP3 player we took from the storage room."

Wheeljack's expression turned grave, but he didn't say anything immediately.

"You gave it to Prime, yes."

"That's why I went to see Danny. I didn't understand what Arkeville was trying to say in his journal. There were equations... and numbers... well I would have asked you but..."

Wheeljack lifted his body so that he was simply kneeling on one knee. He was rubbing at his battle mask absently. If Wheeljack were to have a beard, Allison imagined he would most likely be stroking it. The mental picture was so silly, and so oddly human, Allison almost cracked a smile.

"I wasn't detecting anything unusual from it at the time," he mumbled. "No abnormal energy signatures, no apparent ghost data..." He seemed to be in thought, as if thinking back to the moment they'd pulled it out of the trashed box of Arkeville's belongings, to see something that he might have missed.

"What if it's just broken? It sure looked like it was." Allison offered, and Wheeljack cocked his head at that. "What if something has been done to it or it's simply old; out of batteries even..."

"Certainly a possibility, especially since the data is being stored on such antiquated human technology. It's possible there's enough line break with the core data fusion and the shell components that..." He paused, looking at Allison's exasperated expression. "It could be broken, yes. To fix it though, we'll need the right tools."

"And you know someone with the right tools, right?"

"Yes."

"And that person would be you, right?"

"Right again! But...ah... I don't have the right tools here. For that, we'll have to go take it to my lab. We need to talk to Prime anyway." Wheeljack stood with a massive groan of gears. "To think it was right under our olfactory sensors all this time..."

"I assume you mean right under our noses," Allison corrected politely, with a slight smile.  
Wheeljack looked cheeky at this.

"I've heard it both ways."

"Ah, right." Allison clicked her tongue in dismissal. "But now that we have it, how are we going to get anything off of it?"

"It shouldn't be a problem when we get back to my lab." Wheeljack's expression brightened as he turned to walk back out into the clearing. For a moment she looked after him slightly dumbfounded, unsure of how she was supposed to react to this notion of returning to his lab with him. Wheeljack had gone on a tangent and there was no stopping him. "You'll be positively amazed, Allison. There's millennium's worth of science nailed to my walls that you'll get to witness. You'll also get to see my home!"

Allison nodded, managing a weak smile, but internally her stomach back flipped at Wheeljack's mention of home. That meant, back wherever he had come from; Detroit, where the other Autobots were. A place she likely had no place in. In the back of her mind, the reasonable part of her that thought there was the barest chance she's make it out of this alive, she'd always known that at some point Wheeljack would go back. She'd never actually considered her own fate, that possibly Wheeljack would stay here, or perhaps leave her to return to whatever it was that passed for his home. Every time the thought poked its nose up out of the under layers of her subconscious she'd never been able to think past the next day. She didn't know what she was going to do, and she was too afraid to bring it up to him. It had never seemed appropriate, but she was also afraid of admitting to herself that she didn't want Wheeljack to leave.

After spending that brief time alone and not avoiding death, she'd found that it had felt so mundane. The alternative was going with him, but that thought at the same time again was too terrifying to consider. However, he seemed to think it was the logical next step.

Allison's internal conflict was interrupted by Ratchet's voice slicing through her subconscious, knocking her back into the present. She hadn't even realized she'd been following Wheeljack back to the other Autobots, but she now found herself standing outside the massive circle in which they stood. She saw that Danny was standing off to the side behind Optimus Prime, trying to look as small and hidden as possible behind the Autobot leader. When Allison walked forward he nodded at her uncertainly, glancing back and forth between Wheeljack and the others. She noted that his gaze paused on Wheejack for a second longer than the others, perhaps in fear. Allison breathed a sigh of relief that Wheeljack didn't notice this.

"I can't believe you did that, of all the ridiculous-" Ratchet was in mid-complaint when they entered the circle, his scowl even more unbearable than usual. Considering Ratchet always complained it was hard to pinpoint what would have him appear so flabbergasted. What was even more surprising was that his anger appeared to be directed at Optimus Prime himself, making Allison wonder just how much superiority really mattered within the Autobot faction. They all seemed to scream and complain at Prime as if he was nothing more than another co-worker and not their fearless leader, but maybe that was the beauty of their relationship.

Optimus Prime held up a hand calmly, and Ratchet fell silent with a massive shrug, turning to Wheeljack as he approached the circle. He frowned, but did not say anything right away. Wheeljack held up his hand and stopped.

"Well, the good news is, we apparently found what we needed after all," Wheeljack started, before turning around. He pointed at Allison dutifully, and she stepped back, flustered and not wanting to be put in the middle of their conversation. "Actually, Allison found it. She had it this entire time... fascinating, ain't it?" Wheeljack was far too frank about the whole afair, as if the idea that Allison had the thing in her pocket the whole time was some kind of relief. On the contrary, it made Allison feel rather stupid, especially when Ratchet looked at her with that unfaltering condescending expression she'd learned to hate so much.

"I didn't know…" Allison offered tentatively. "I didn't know I had it. I'd only realized what it was when Danny told me the pictures looked like an MP3 player. Forgotten I'd had it actually…" she added, seeing Optimus Prime's raised brow. "So… hooray?"

"Indeed." Optimus Prime said calmly, and Allison wondered if he was responding to her sarcasm or merely his own internal thoughts. He seemed to sigh, looking the small device that was still in his hand, turning it over before handing it dutifully to Wheejack, who took it with equal care. "Wheeljack, is there anything you can glean from this device? It's importance?"

Wheeljack shook his head hastily. "No. The only thing we do know is that the doc had apparently stumbled upon some Cybertronian frequency and had been talking to someone claiming to be an Autobot. He'd been using this… although at this point I'm not clear if it was meant as some type of receiver or some type of recording device. Either way, we think that this device holds the coordinates to Cybertron's location relative to Earth." He explained very quickly, so fast that Allison was surprised she caught all of it.

"Then it is prudent that we keep this knowledge out of Decepticon hands. A full-scale invasion on this planet would be disastrous, and I fear the Autobots would be destroyed in the process," Optimus Prime said grimly, summing it up in a surprisingly matter-of-fact way. Allison thought rather crudely that what he'd said had been already established ages ago, but she didn't offer that observation. Instead, she side-stepped over to where Danny was standing silently and frowned at him. His expression didn't waver.

"I would need to take it back to my lab for proper analysis. If we are able to triangulate Cybertron's location and finally contact what remains of the Council, we might be able to get the resources we need to take care of Megatron once and for all… but I can't do anything with it now…" Wheeljack faltered, and Allison could feel his eyes on her. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing as she was, and was rewarded as his next statement came as a confirmation. "And Allison is coming with me." Wheeljack blurted suddenly, as if he half-expected a refusal and wanted to get it over with quickly like ripping off a band-aid. Once again she could feel all the eyes in the area on her, including Danny's, and it was made more uncomfortable by the fact that she was standing so near him staring right back.

"Oh for God's sake stop staring at me. All of you," Allison scoffed. Optimus Prime was looking at her loftily, and she had no idea what to make of that type of expression. It left her out of sorts, and wondering if she should feel like she was being judged… but that didn't strike her as Optimus Prime's M.O. "But, I need a favor first." Allison hesitated, shaking the thought out of her mind. She saw Danny narrow his eyes in the corner of her vision. She scowled at him knowingly. "I want to get Danny out of here. He can't stay. I can't risk that…" she paused, thinking, knowing it was the right choice. She looked at him. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess, but I need to finish this, and you can't be a part of it…"

Danny looked to be in disbelief, and she was surprised that he didn't immediately protest, if only to get the chance to hang out with a bunch of walking, talking robots. That sort of techno stuff was his thing, but she hoped that in the back of his mind he knew it was too risky. He was frowning at her, but she could tell by his gaze that he understood. It was silent for a while, until Optimus Prime finally spoke.

"That is the wisest choice Allison, but you are not obligated to stay with us. You have played your part, and we are grateful, but you do not need to unnecessarily throw yourself into our conflict for our benefit," he rumbled, his voice seeming to come from the very trees around them. Allison turned and looked up at him.

"That's true, but… I know for a fact that Wheeljack wouldn't let me go anywhere." Unsurprisingly, Wheeljack looked rather proud of himself over this fact; his chest swelled outward making him look larger than usual. "And I think you probably want to keep your engineer." Allison half-smiled at this.

"If you are certain of this, then I will not stop you." Optimus Prime said flatly, but there was no less warmth in his voice. Allison was actually quite surprised that Optimus Prime wasn't outwardly trying to stop her by practically throwing her out the door, if only to keep her out of the warzone. But she supposed he was respecting her ability to choose her own fate, and for that she was grateful.

Allison took a deep breath and turned back to Danny, trying her best to look positive for him, but she had to assume that he was thinking the worst: That Allison was being a moron, was getting herself killed over nothing, and was refusing to let him be a part of something so awesome. Allison didn't even want to bring the subject up for fear of opening up the proverbial floodgates. She didn't want to argue with him, and just wanted to make sure he was safe.

"I guess you won't ever forget this, huh?" She mumbled quietly, trying to inject some warmth into the stale air between them, but he only continued to frown. She'd never realized that Danny could be quite so subdued, being so used to his overactive imagination and frivolous nature when they had worked together. Now he seemed like a silent shell, just watching her as if waiting for her to crack. Allison cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I guess we should go…" she whispered, gesturing for him to follow her back through the brush and onto the road.

She was surprised to hear much larger footsteps follow them, and turning on the beaten path to look in the sunlight she saw that Wheeljack and Ratchet were behind them. Optimus Prime and Arcee remained in the clearing, perhaps debriefing, or whatever it was they might do. Arcee was a new-arrival after all, and she assumed that Optimus wanted to exchange information.

"I have something for you," Ratchet grunted, coming forward when the two humans stopped and turned to see what was going on. Concerned, Allison looked at him, mutely wondering if his grim expression meant he had some kind of suppository for her. Thankfully that wasn't the case, and Ratchet knelt down slowly, only to pull a beaten metallic disc from somewhere behind him. She'd never quite figured out where they managed to store things without pockets. That thought was immediately pushed aside as she realized what the metal disc actually was.

"Oh...my god! How did you-" Allison stuttered, willing her brain to believe that her eyes were actually seeing the silent, compacted form of Bean. The dented and scuffed metal drone was packed within itself tightly, the same form as when Wheeljack first gave it to her, presumably some kind of storage-ready function. Either way Allison was flabbergasted, and extremely touched at the same time. "Did you actually-"

Ratchet dropped the inert bundle into her arms. "It was safe enough…" he muttered, turning his eyes away. "Try not to lose it, because I'm not going after it again…" he trailed off, grunting to a stand. Allison blinked at him, and looked at Wheeljack for guidance, but his eyes were nothing but glittering globules of subdued pleasure. He was clearly trying to hold back some kind of clever remark, perhaps at Ratchet's expense, but all Allison could feel was surprised gratitude. Ratchet was being evasive, but it was obvious that he'd gone back to Wheeljack's now destroyed temporary lab and had rescued the little drone; For her.

"I don't know what to say…" she muttered, holding Bean tenderly as if she was carrying a baby. The little drone didn't move, and she looked Bean over carefully with concern. "Thank you."

"Considering how much trouble I went through chasing that crazy thing down so I could put it into stasis, I'd say that'll do for now." Ratchet waved his hand at her. "Just don't release the pipes, okay?"

"Okay," Allison choked, half laughing. "I… I can't believe you did this for-" Allison was about to finish, but was cut off.

"Yeah yeah, now get going" Ratchet shrugged, waving her off with a massive hand before retreating back to the clearing where the others were still communicating, effectively ending the conversation. Allison smiled after him, surprisingly not concerned about his ability to effectively remove himself from such a tender moment, but she knew that the gesture was enough. She turned back to Wheeljack, momentarily forgetting that Danny was still standing near her and was likely hopelessly confused.

"Best put it away for now…" Wheeljack said, his speech panels flashing brightly. Allison only noticed now that the flashing on his damaged panel seemed to be delayed, and the burst of light was fragmented down the crack. It was like one side took an extra fraction of a second to catch up with the other, akin to three different lights blinking at her rather than two. She just knew that was going to be distracting until he got it properly fixed.

Before she could comment on it to him, Wheeljack was already on the road and transforming before Allison had time to realize that this was the first time Danny was seeing the robot go back into car mode. Not expecting the robot in front of him to suddenly collapse and reshape itself in the near blink of an eye, he jerked back roughly with a shout, startling Allison as well. "Sorry… I should have…"

"Do they all do that so fast?" He asked wistfully, and she wondered if he was trying to figure out for himself how it all worked. His brow was tightened in concentration.

"Ratchet is kind of slow, but he's just old…" Allison smirked, and she thought she heard Ratchet grunt in response from the clearing. She bit her lip to suppress a laugh, thinking that either Wheeljack had just chuckled, or made some kind of gagging noise. She wanted to imagine it was the former, and not some subtle reminder to her of his distaste for present company.  
"Seriously though, what are you doing?" Allison directed this inquiry at Wheeljack, who by now had shuffled up next to them in order to be obvious.

"What do you think I'm doing? Did you think you were going to walk?" he rumbled, not unpleasantly.

"Ah... No… but," Allison actually hadn't even thought about how they were going to get to his parents' house, but she'd been certain that Wheeljack would not be so kind as to let Danny ride inside him. But on the contrary, he had opened his door and was clearly waiting for them to move. Allison wrinkled her nose at Wheeljack in silent disgust as she noted that he'd opened his back door instead of the front; a clever attempt at being subtly disrespectful to their guest. Even though she knew Danny wouldn't understand that he'd been mildly insulted by Wheeljack, it was still very juvenile.

"Who made it?" Danny was looking Wheeljack over, clearly in awe, but also showing obvious signs of hesitation. As soon as he said it, Allison cringed, knowing that Danny wasn't exactly giving Wheeljack any reasons to like him.

"Nobody made me, boy. I am 100% Cybertronian born perfection, long before you were even conceived in the mire of galactic star-dust." Wheeljack snorted with a grumble of internal machinery, obviously annoyed, but she knew him too well to be fooled. Wheeljack wasn't truly annoyed, and in fact was probably enjoying the attention born out of the other human's disbelief and mild terror. Danny however, had paled and taken three steps in the opposite direction in fear of his life. "And I am not an it." He added with flourish. Allison sighed, but remained quiet, curiosity compelling her to let them continue, if only for the opportunity to watch Wheeljack interact with her friend.

"If he's from space, then why does he sound like he's from Jersey?" Danny was pointing at Wheeljack, but he was looking at Allison. She returned his stare blankly, truthfully having no real answer for him. She'd never taken Wheeljack's unique method of speech into consideration before. It had just always seemed natural to her.

"I... don't know?" Honestly, Allison herself was no curious. They were on the opposite coast after all. Wheeljack was silently for a moment, something Allison took to mean that they were about to get an answer that wasn't exactly serious.

"Lots of planets have a Jersey."

"They do not." Allison puffed air heavily, giving up on a real answer. "Just get in Danny, I'll sit in the front," she said, pulling open the driver's side door. Finally settling down in the seat, she paused, realizing just now how much she had actually missed sitting there. She let her hands slide over the wheel affectionately and exhaled, feeling grateful that she was with Wheeljack again, and knowing how close she had come to actually losing him. "It feels like it's been forever…" she murmured, even though it had really only been a few days. Allison was content enough just knowing that Wheeljack's hearing was good enough to catch it. His subtle rumble, rattling his frame just slightly was enough of a response for her to notice. It was too small and seemingly insignificant to mean anything for Danny, who had by now finally clamored into the backseat.

Allison smiled to herself, feeling floaty as Wheeljack closed the doors on his own power. Danny edged away from the door next to him, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that it had closed without him touching it. Allison could sympathize with him, forgetting how used to it all she had become in such a short time and understanding that he'd really only come to know this bizarre reality for less than a day. She turned to look at him. "I forgot where it is."

Danny looked at her, some color returning to his face. His brow rose. "What are you smiling about?"

Allison got very warm, very fast and thought she was caught, before realizing that he probably thought she was amused at his expense. Frankly, she preferred to have him think that as opposed to the alternative, which was admitting that she was getting warm fuzzies over sitting inside what to him was nothing more than a giant sassy robot.

"Nothing, just tell him where to go," Allison said hastily, trying to change the subject. "He isn't going to digest you, so just tell him the address and shut up."

Danny leaned forward, looking uncertain, and almost fearful. It wasn't long before she realized he was trying to figure out if there was something he should speak into, like a microphone or a speaker. Clearing her throat uncomfortably, Allison stopped him. "He can hear you if you just talk… you don't speak into anything…" Allison was surprised that Wheeljack wasn't milking Danny's discomfort for all that it was worth, but was thankful that he was at least staying quiet for the time being. She assumed that internally he was having a riot.

Then Allison had a thought.

"'Jack… can you go back to his house please? I think he'd appreciate it if he could gather a few things…" she said, and thankfully Wheeljack didn't argue. He actually didn't say a word as he lurched forward. He wasn't exactly going fast, but Allison could tell that Danny was trying to find something to hold onto as if fearing that Wheeljack was going to open the door and throw him out. Allison faintly feared that he would do just that, but she knew that with her also inside, Wheeljack was not tempted to be reckless and drive like a maniac.

Once they arrived, Danny seemed to want nothing more than to get out as quickly as possible, so without any instruction from Allison or Wheeljack, he put his hand on the door. Immediately he pulled back as if burned, startled.

"Why does the door have a pulse?" he blurted turning to Allison who had craned her neck around to look at him once she heard him gasp. She was about to open her mouth when out of nowhere Wheeljack answered for her.

"Because I am imbued with the essence of all the fleshy little organic males I have eaten… You can feel their collective little heartbeats…"

Allison nearly burst out laughing, because she knew by his tone that Wheeljack was clearly joking and was just trying to scare him. That was until she realized that Danny wouldn't know this, and he looked then like he was about to throw up. Allison's eyes widened.

"He's joking." She turned back to the dashboard, what she had instinctively begun to associate as his "face" to talk to. "You're joking. Stop being a jerk."

Allison turned back to Danny whose expression had changed from one of horror to something closer to annoyance. That was partially a good sign. It meant that he was reading into Wheeljack's attitude as something other than malcontent and wasn't necessarily afraid. Danny didn't say anything however, and turning his gaze onto Allison he pushed the door open with new-found bravery and stepped outside. Allison thought that it probably was a good idea to go in there with him. After all, she'd gotten fairly competent at recognizing the signs of a lurking Decepticon. With Wheeljack outside, Danny probably needed the company now more than ever.

They locked up what they could, but Danny was quiet as he moved about, putting necessities together and stuffing them into a travel bag. Allison tried to find words to explain, or to apologize for what she'd done and what was happening, but they didn't come. This was her fault.

This made the journey uncomfortably quiet, but surprisingly short. Allison was grateful for that, because she didn't think she could stand the silence any longer. She'd tried to make conversation with Danny a few times, but he didn't reciprocate, answering in short stilted sentences before falling silent again. Allison was having a hard time deciphering if he was just angry or scared. And if he was angry, she didn't know if it was because she'd kept this from him or because he was now being displaced because of her. Either way he didn't complain. It wasn't until they'd arrived when he finally spoke. Wheeljack had stopped just outside the small cabin-looking structure and had opened his doors to let them out. Allison got out quickly, smelling the cold air.

She hadn't ever been here, so it was a new and exciting place to see. It was very open and quiet, surrounded by trees and the sound of early birdsong. The air was thick with the musky scent of fall and the crisp sharpness of lake water, interrupted only by the sting of fire smoke. It was isolated, the house at the end of a long winding dirt path through trees, with a covered trail that led down to the water. The home was covered enough that she was sufficiently satisfied with the level of safety it hopefully provided, but once she left she could only pray that Danny was left alone. It was also clearly empty, which gave Wheeljack a chance to transform, something Allison was no longer surprised with.

Danny only looked mildly startled by this, now jaded from the experience of earlier. Wheeljack was looking around dutifully with an air of careful observation, either using this chance of peace to take in the scenery or scouting for any danger. Allison left him alone, eager to get a closer look at the house with the immediate danger passed. Danny handed her the key when she held her hand out expectantly, and she ran towards the front door of the house and up the weathered, wooden steps onto the porch. The porch itself was devoid of any décor, save for the lone hanging porch-swing on one of the far sides. It was just as worn and aged as the rest of the house, the white paint cracking with rustic charm. Yet despite this it was probably well cared for, still standing after all, despite its obvious age.

Allison slid the key into the lock and turned, surprised at the stiffness of the door as the handle finally gave under her palm. The door creaked, but once it was free of its frame it swung open easily without needing too much strength. She had just stepped through the threshold when she finally heard Danny speak, and was surprised to hear his call directed at someone other than herself.

"Hey robot." His tone was closer to his usual demeanor, snarky, but carefully controlled. Even though Danny knew his name perfectly well, he was choosing to play at Wheeljack's stupid testosterone-driven game of supremacy. Of course she could only assume this, but she remembered feeling weird addressing Wheeljack by his actual name when they first met. It was awkward using an automotive tool as a form of address, but it had become second nature for her quickly. Of course, she hadn't had much of a choice.

Allison paused inside the doorway and leaned against the adjacent wall, stilling her breathe to hear better. She stayed out of sight, but she could hear Wheeljack shift, possibly taking a step forward. She didn't hear further movement, and assumed that Wheeljack was remaining at his full height to retain some sort of dominance. Allison rolled her eyes to herself, but curiosity compelled her to stay and listen. Murmuring could be heard from outside, mostly Danny's voice as Wheeljack was presumably listening to him speak, but she couldn't make out what was being said until she finally heard the end of their conversation.

"… Take care of her."

There was no response to this, but Allison was floored enough to not have heard it. It was then that she realized how utterly stupid she'd been. She'd practically used Danny, and was now throwing him out like a towel. But what were her other options? She couldn't put him in anymore unnecessary danger and this was the best way to do it, but she was now asking him to forget about her and to simply trust her judgment. It probably wasn't fair, especially after everything he's seen today. But still, the sentiment was sweet, and she couldn't help but smile to herself.

Her reverie was broken when Danny stepped into the building. He ran a hand through his hair as he walked into the foyer, noticing her foppish grin.

"Uh, you didn't hear any of that did you?" he asked, looking a little embarrassed.

"What, me? No, not a thing. I was just here admiring your…stairs." Despite her best efforts to appear unreadable, she knew her smirk was obvious.

"Yeah, they're old stairs alright." He cracked a guilty smile. "You heard everything didn't you? It's OK though, I meant it. I want… ah, Wheeljack to make sure he keeps you safe, that's all."

Allison stiffened, standing. "I'm alright," she said stonily, perhaps with a little more edge then she had intended. She softened, stepping up to Danny. "This is for the best… I ah…" she looked around, glancing out the door only to notice that Wheeljack appeared to be doing a terrible job of pretending that he wasn't monitoring their conversation. Boys, she thought to herself with an internal sigh of frustration. Whatever Danny didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "I'll be fine," She offered. It would have to do. Danny didn't respond immediately, but only watched her carefully, perhaps for some sign that she was about to change her mind. Allison moved quickly. "Well… can't leave their glorious leader waiting." She hesitated. "I'll call you when it's over…"

"You're running away with that thing, aren't you?" It was hard to miss the subtle tone of resentment in his voice. Allison felt herself bristle at such casual disrespect, only for a moment, before she responded.

"Running away isn't the wording I would chose, Danny. What they're doing is very noble. And regardless of how I feel about it, I'm part of it now."

"Even though it could get you killed." He said tonelessly.

"Yes. But it would be selfish of me to back out just because I was selfish enough to put myself before the safety of the Earth." She shook her head and laughed. "I make it sound like I'm important, but really I'm not. And I'm fine with that. But what I'm doing is important. I mean, it's really quite small really. I just helped them find something. You helped."

"Please," Danny said interrupting with a raised hand. "It's fine. If you're fine with that, then I am too. I just want you to be careful, is all. You may not feel important, but you are. I mean, you're life is. I mean… just…" Danny waved both his hands in exasperation. "Just be careful." She thought that maybe he was blushing, but he was being careful to keep his eyes away from her.  
Allison nodded, not wanting to drag this on any longer. She looked around awkwardly, before messily throwing her arms around him in a hug. It must have startled him too, as he took a step back, but after a brief moment of hesitation he reciprocated. Allison pulled away and gave an awkward nod as she turned around and headed to the door. She didn't bother looking up as she left the house, not wanting to linger. Danny did not call after her, but she'd never expected him to.

Looking around outside in the muted sunlight under the trees, Allison mildly panicked when there was no Wheeljack to be found. Just as she was about to call out to him he emerged from the tree line looking ecstatic.

"Birds," he said brightly as Allison approached. For a moment Allison was baffled.

"Yes, we have them. What about them?"

"I heard them chattering over on the other side of the lake. Wonderful…" He trailed off, looking at her hopefully as if the thought of running off to frolic with birds was crossing his mind. Instead, he straightened after a moment of Allison staring at him in puzzlement. "Now… we best be going…" he said with new-found seriousness. "They are waiting for us, and it's best we get out of the city limits and to the rendezvous point as soon as possible." With a loud mechanized sound that was now familiar to Allison, Wheeljack transformed into his vehicle form, the driver's side door swinging open. Allison paused for a moment to finally look back at the house. It was dark and silent, which was probably for the best. She climbed inside without another word, and the door shut behind her. With a silence that was oddly comforting, the two drove away from the cabin.

After a while when it became clear that Allison had no idea where they were going, she decided to finally break the silence. She wasn't sure why Wheeljack was being so quiet, but she sensed discomfort in him. A mundane question seemed the most appropriate.

"So where is the rendezvous anyway?" Allison asked. "I'm assuming you know and you're not just driving around in circles." Wheeljack made a rumbling noise, perhaps a chuckle.

"I am not driving in circles as a matter of fact. It's a location not far outside of Sealth. Optimus sent me the coordinates while you were still inside." Wheeljack paused, as if thinking hard on something. "I believe you call it Four Pillars Entertainment Pavilion. Rather an extravagant name for a patch of dirt…"

"Four Pillars? But that's a fair ground. And it's not a patch of dirt. It's a large fairground, filled with magical wonders and terrible food. Not the most secretive of places for giant alien robots to congregate. Especially since it's the middle of the day."

"It's not occupied right now, and currently in off-season. Do you honestly think that Optimus Prime would choose a crowded location to hold an Autobot pow-pow?" He chortled, and Allison got the distinct impression that he was making fun of her. She rolled her eyes at him and looked back out onto the road.

"That's pow-wow."

"I've heard it both ways."

"You have not. I have never heard it called a pow-pow before, ever-"

"I should probably tell you there's going to be others there," Wheeljack said, interrupting her.

"By others you mean Autobots, I'm guessing." She responded calmly, unsure of how she was supposed to react to this.

"Right. Optimus did not come alone."

"Reinforcements," Allison mumbled to herself, nodding slightly. "Frankly I'm not sure if that makes me feel safer or more nervous." Allison felt her stomach lurch at that moment as she tried to process her uncertainty. This meant new robots; new insane, highly dangerous robots carrying very large weapons. Which, of course, she was OK with, so long as they weren't Decepticons and aiming those weapons at her. But there was no denying the intimidating presence that 30 foot robots with weapons of destruction managed to convey with little to no effort. Ratchet had tried to explain to her once their original nature of servitude: an almost working class group of every day Joes from space. And yet that apparent pacifist, approachable nature just didn't translate very well to a small, comparably frail human.

It had taken her a long time to get used to just one of them. The addition of Ratchet and Arcee was pushing it. To be surrounded by even more, at one time, in a much more volatile and dangerous situation, put her on edge.

"They are called Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Perhaps Optimus felt that speed was a necessary asset, but they are reliable warriors, and will be valuable help." Wheeljack said. He sounded somewhat hesitant as if he possibly didn't believe it himself. Or perhaps he was just afraid of Allison's reaction. She decided to keep her uncertainty to herself, not wanting to give Wheeljack another reason to fuss over her. She was an adult, and God willing had already been through hell and somehow managed to come out of it. She'd simply have to trust that Wheeljack would not intentionally put her in harm's way.

Allison suddenly remembered something that perhaps Wheeljack wasn't even aware that she knew. "I think I remember Ratchet mentioning them actually… back when he told me -" She stopped, realizing what she was about to say. "Ah, Ratchet mentioned that they were twins in passing. That would explain why he was so irritated…" Her half-hearted attempt at changing the subject was not a good bluff.

"This didn't happen to be the same conversation where Ratchet blurted out the entirety of my secret, would it?" Surprisingly Wheeljack did not seem annoyed.

"It might have been…" Allison said sheepishly. "Look, he brought it up not me…" As she briefly wondered what the twins could possibly look like with such vibrant names, the neurotic fear that she'd have to learn how to tell them apart nagged at her brain and kept her from looking forward to it as much as she could have. She couldn't remember if Ratchet had said they were identical twins, but to be honest she had a hard time imagining it possible for a robot to have something like a twin and NOT be identical. It wasn't like they split from the same zygote, but she did know they were Spark Bonded, and therefore very close to one another. Based on Ratchet's brief, glowing description of their maturity levels she expected that they would probably tease Wheeljack for the very same thing. For some reason she got the impression that Wheeljack was the target of many jokes.

Thinking of Wheeljack as some kind of target caused a memory to flood back to her, so clear and precise that she nearly reacted physically to the new sensation of forgotten alarm. It suddenly felt very important and she wasn't sure why; Something about Starscream. Allison started to fidget, rubbing at her neck nervously where Starscream had touched her. She could still feel it, where his sharp, bony finger had slid against her skin and down her neck. The very same goose bumps that she had felt then in her moment of defiant terror rose from her skin making her hair stand on end.

"Allison, why am I detecting a sudden increase in your heart rate? Are you nervous?" The inquiry seemed innocent enough, almost tender, if not intrusive that he could read her vital signs so intimately. It almost made her squirm even more, and make every effort to appear interested with the scenery outside. "I can assure you that you won't have a problem with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Well, they might have an issue with you, but that's only because they're both unusually… fickle. But you should be fine with them." This did not reassure Alison completely, mostly because it was not the source of her distress.

"What? No… I'm not nervous. I… want to tell you something. I'm not really sure why…" she hesitated, choosing her words carefully. She wasn't sure why she suddenly felt guilty, as if she had been the one doing something wrong. It was a hard, confusing feeling to place. "Wheeljack… I think you should be careful. I think Starscream wants to hurt you… I mean I guess that's a give-in, but I'm talking about really hurting you; singling you out." Allison paused, thinking that Wheeljack was going to say something based on the timbre of his systems, but the stone silence was jarring. Awkwardly Allison continued. "I think he knows how you feel, and he um… or, he guessed it. I don't know… but he seemed rather keen on making a show of it. Maybe he was just trying to intimidate me, but I think he would be mad enough to kill for the sake of fun. He did blow up an entire building of people and destroy an airplane after all…" Allison trailed off, waiting again for some kind of response from Wheeljack. He was quiet for a moment, and Allison thought that perhaps the air inside his cabin had stilled. She wasn't sure how to interpret that.

"He threatened you, then?" The inquiry was abrupt.

"Well.. of course he threatened me…" she was still rubbing at her neck until she realized that such a neurotic activity was only drawing attention to herself. She was about to continue to hopefully try and change the subject, knowing that Starscream had become a rather sore topic for the Autobot. Wheeljack got his word in first.

"I take it that your fidgeting and sudden interest in your skin symbolizes that his hands were on you?" He was blunt. Too blunt.

"Seriously when you say it like that it sounds terrible. Yes he touched me, but I think he was just trying to scare me. Unfortunately he did a good job. Look, I'm sorry I brought it up, I didn't mean to upset you. I just, wanted to tell you…" After it was silent for a few moments following her pause, she added, feeling too smothered. "It seemed wrong to keep it from you. I don't know why. Look, it's nothing. I'm fine." She added, hoping to convince Wheeljack that it was a mistake bringing it up. He was not easily convinced. After a few more agonizing moments of choking quiet, he spoke mutely.

"I believe it is more important now than ever that you stay where I can see you and not run off." He said, and his insinuation was not lost on her. It sounded like an order. Allison thought it was best not to argue at this point, whether she liked him dictating her around or not. She knew what was at stake for him, so she bit her tongue, hoping that she hadn't completely ruined the drive that was to come.

"Allison." Wheeljack finally offered after a few minutes, his voice decidedly softer and devoid of its previous acidity. "I believe that Starscream will try and hurt you to get to me; Strike at the Spark and all that… As I have said before, I fear that Starscream may now be acting of his own volition. He's always been selfishly ambitious, even before our research days, and its no secret that he's been dissatisfied with Megatron's current path as of late. I believe he's gone rogue, as you humans say. If I am correct, then he is no longer following Megatron's orders, which is bad for all of us."

"Isn't Megatron a tyrant, though? Wouldn't being away from his command be a good thing? Surely he's weaker on his own."

"Megatron is a monster in all sense of the word, yes. But it was Starscream's patience and intent to take over that kept him tethered to Megatron's word. He's a loose canon now, which makes him unpredictable, and that makes him far more dangerous. He may be intending to use the Pendulum for his own glory in the Decepticon ranks. He is very good at hunting what he wants, and manipulating it to suit whatever he feels like."

"I somehow doubt this is about the Pendulum..." Allison said with some sarcasm.

"Maybe not, but we will still want to keep it to ourselves, no matter what." Wheeljack seemed to read on her sarcasm but his reply was no less serious.

"Are you going to finally tell me why he seems to have such a vendetta against you?" It was as good a time as any to pop the question since they were on that subject, but she highly doubted that Wheeljack was ready to share the more intimate details of that bit of his past yet. She didn't know when he ever would be, but she was certainly ready to learn why exactly Wheeljack had such a target painted across his chest. Since she was indirectly involved, she kind of wanted to know, but she doubted that he would simply volunteer that information on his own regardless of it being fair or not. If she wanted to know she'd have to keep subtly bringing it up, but he'd always been sensitive about the topic and what had happened to his face. She still wanted to see what was really beneath that mask.

As the scenery slid by next to them Wheeljack was silent, perhaps thinking of a response.  
Allison continued,

"I mean, you mentioned before that Starscream was involved. Was it an argument? Did...did he do this to you?"

After a brief pause, Wheeljack replied, "Another time, perhaps."

"Of course. Sore subject. Sorry. It was rude of me." She felt a little embarrassed that she was unable to hide her disappointment. Part of her felt somewhat curious as to her own persistent desire to learn more about something that was obviously an extremely painful subject for Wheeljack.

"Allison, Starscream and I have a long history. It goes back longer than I care to remember. A lot of time's passed between then. A lot of time for Starscream to fester over his twisted problems."

"But he always looks so... happy. He has that horrible smirk and that self-righteous arrogance about him. That he's the Omega, supreme and perfect."

"Starscream's got his head too far up his own afterburners. He has a few million years of burning hatred boiling away. It's enough for his loathing to feed on." Wheeljack was silent again for a short time after, before seeming to perk up. "We're almost there. Just 10 more minutes. You may as well get some rest."

"Rest? At a time like this?" She sat back in her chair and sighed. "It seems like all I do is sleep these days. When I'm not getting shot at or hunted down by rampaging Decepticons."

"Welcome to my world," Wheeljack chuckled.

Allison smiled a little, and closed her eyes.


	36. Four Pillars

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Alright, so this chapter turned out to be extremely long. There's quite a bit of silliness in here before it takes a pretty drastic turn.**

**If you are particularly sensitive, there are some parts that might be seen as pretty violent. To me it doesn't seem too overly intense, but that's just me.  
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When Allison opened her eyes again, she had to squint against the brightness of the sun. The light filling Wheeljack's interior wasn't excessively bright, but they'd since broken away from the more forested areas, and the sun had nothing to filter through now. That wasn't the first thing on Allison's mind though. Instead, it was the music coming from Wheeljack's stereo.

"Wheeljack" she murmured. "What is this?"

"I thought I'd catch up on some of the music you youth-humans listen to, so I tapped into a local radio station." Wheeljack sounded extremely pleased with himself. "I bet this is all the rage on Earth, huh?"

"Wheeljack, this is Bach." Allison shook her head in disbelief.

"Isn't this what all the cool kids listen to?" The naivety in his tone was simply startling.

"Sure, if you lived in the 1700's..." Allison sat up, squinting her eyes against the sun to look around. They had arrived alright, and they were currently sitting in the middle of the parking lot just outside the front gates.

"I believe they call this, Broken music, yes?" It was nice to see that his injuries hadn't changed him for the worse. It was completely reassuring that she was not going to have to settle for a tightly strung, violently mad scientist with a mind for breaking things before actually fixing them...

"That's Baroque. It's the name of an old style of music, dating from the 1700's. Our 1700's, at any rate. Do scientists on Cybertron actually do any research before they open their mouths?" Wheeljack vented air quickly, a sign Allison had come to understand as indignation. Allison laughed, and shook her head. "Never mind, I'm just teasing you." She sat back in her seat once more and rubbed her eyes. Wheeljack quickly turned the music off.

"We apparently beat them here..." he said, expertly changing the subject. "It seems they took some time to tend to Arcee before heading out."

It was deserted alright, and they were definitely the first ones to the party. Allison had only been here on occasions where there had actually been a fair, so it was eerie to see everything so deserted and closed off.

"I'm going to stretch my legs," Allison said, and she clamored out into the daylight. Looking around, she could now see why this had probably been a good location. The fair ground was located in a large valley amongst the surrounding mountainous terrain, the flat land wide and fairly devoid of vegetation save for low-lying brush. There was no real traffic to speak of, for the nearby highway ran through the adjacent hills letting out onto only one main road and a series of maintenance roads around the exterior. She imagined that some type of groundskeeper probably came around at intervals, but she assumed that Optimus Prime would have planned for something like that.

Aside from that there was nothing else in the valley of interest to bring any stray observers into their midst, which was just as well. At least there were no Decepticons lurking about, and with nothing really high surrounding them there wouldn't be many opportunities for them to hide. That was of course, assuming they weren't already hiding in the fair ground somewhere. She couldn't picture a Decepticon hiding as one of the cheap entertainment machines, though that might actually be quite apt, in a sinister kind of way. From what Allison could remember the park facility had a lot of wide warehouse type buildings meant for display booths during the fair. They weren't tall, but she supposed if they wanted to hang out in car-mode all day waiting for them they could.

Shaking off that thought, Allison wandered a little in the immediate area, stretching her legs to renew feeling into them after being cooped up again inside Wheeljack's interior. The beaten dirt ground was moist from the approach of winter, but the day had turned out to be clear and bright. The sun was direct, and helped to warm her stiff joints in the crisp, lazy breeze. Her clothes were starting to feel rather thread-bare, and Allison mused that a shopping trip was likely in her future if she lived to see it.

Allison was in the midst of brushing herself off and fussing over the worn patches on her shirt when the peeling of tires made her start and look up in the Autobot's general direction. Wheeljack had decided that it was time to enter the fairground despite the gate with the large padlock feeling otherwise. He lurched forward with spinning wheels and rammed into the heavy iron doors, breaking them open with very little effort. Allison winced as they bent forward with a screech of dented metal, nearly falling from their hinges as they swung open with a force that by all rights should have thrown them from the weak, wooden struts they were attached to. She was suddenly feeling very grateful that she was not the one who would have to be responsible for all the damage Wheeljack seemed to cause on a daily basis.

"You couldn't have just opened them?" Allison called after him incredulously as he transformed in a blur, peering at her with flashing blue eyes from over the outlying walls that served as the ground's barrier. He beckoned her to come inside, and Allison obliged, not wanting to stand out in the parking lot without him. She felt much safer inside anyway.

It became immediately apparent that their initial observations were correct, and they were indeed alone. There was no sign of anyone, including other Autobots. This made her feel on edge, because they were now inside a deserted fairground with more open space then she knew what to do with. It was clean at least, but the still lifelessness and silence only accentuated the horror movie-esque feel that Allison was hoping to avoid. The boarded up food carts and locked up exhibition halls and gift shops only added to the gloomy feel of abandonment the grounds purveyed. A large Ferris wheel and some other indiscernible amusement ride could be seen rising off into the distance, the cars of the wheel just barely swaying in the late autumn wind. The cold quiet was only occasionally broken up by the passing of stray trash that had managed to escape capture by the clean-up crew, and the far off clanking of a loose chain in the distance.

Wheeljack was also making a jarring racket, apparently finding a spare roller coaster car sitting on a maintenance trolley worth waking the dead over. He was holding it by one of the wheel treads on the side, shaking it as if it was a piggy bank that was going to reward him with a million dollars.

Allison had to cover her ears as the wheel tread finally snapped, and the whole cart came crashing down to the ground in a spectacular mess of broken parts.

"Well if the whole Decepticon army didn't know where we were before, the certainly do now," Allison said dryly. Wheeljack shrugged, seemingly unfazed by the destruction.

"I've done worse," he said nondescriptly.

"Oh, do share," Allison said, folding her arms across her chest. She shifted her weight haughtily and waited for him to continue, smiling.

"Once by mistake I caused an entire landslide to fall down on top of me and Huffer on a reconnaissance mission. That was extremely loud."

"I bet. Rocks are generally noisy."

"Oh no, I meant Huffer. I had to put up with his complaining for 3 whole cycles. Almost led Megatron right to us." He seemed to pause for a moment, thinking. "I'm not very fond of Huffer."

"Oh? And why not?"

Wheeljack outstretched his arms, incredulously. "He seems to think my talents aren't needed. He's always complaining that my inventions aren't safe enough, always ready to dismiss my ideas at the slightest mention. I remember once he told me right to my face that my actions are more dangerous to Autobots than Megatron himself. Imagine! Me, dangerous?"

"What on Earth could give him any reason to think that, I wonder?" Allison said in support, though she could instantly call to mind at least a dozen reasons.

"I know! It's preposterous! I would be willing to bet my left cosmitron that-"

"Wheeljack, this is great and all, but we should really try looking for the others. You can tell me about this Puffer guy later." Allison looked around.

"That's Huffer, though I think I actually like Puffer better..." He said mutely, before he turned to examine the remains of the now-defunct coaster car.

Allison shrugged, and looked around, taking a few tentative steps into the entry courtyard. There was a gift cart directly in front of her, and to the left a series of buildings broken up by concrete pathways that led further into the park. Up ahead and the right, Wheeljack was standing in the middle of a second pathway that led to a series of food carts. He looked around, finally distracted out of his musings, then turned to her questioningly.

"I have to admit, the construction on this place is really quite depressing. If these poorly designed vehicles are the best humanity's most brilliant minds can come up with..."

"They're not, though. Mostly they're made by underpaid civil engineers who have families to feed. It's just cheap entertainment. I'm sorry if it's not up to your standards, sir." That last sentence was supposed to be in jest, but Wheeljack's face bore a twinge of annoyance for a moment before it softened, perhaps a sign that he'd realized his error. She decided to let it go, thinking that she had more of a right to be annoyed than he did. "So aren't they supposed to be here by now?" Allison asked with a sigh. She walked over to the empty gift cart and heaved her body over to peer on the other side, not really looking for anything in particular. It was more to keep her busy.

"I suppose we will need to wait for them." Wheeljack didn't seem entirely pleased by this.

"Well, shall we take the grand tour then?" Allison said with a little bit of sarcasm, but she had to admit that getting to run around in a deserted fair ground was just a little bit exhilarating, spooky or not.

It was when they began walking, that Allison was reminded just how big Wheeljack was, not being entirely used to simply walking next to him as if they were taking a stroll. She supposed they were technically doing just that, but she was so accustomed to seeing him standing, or watching him move in car mode, that it was almost awkward for a moment. It mostly came from the fact that she felt like she was slowing him down. His steps were much wider than hers, about one step to her four, and she found that she had to walk much faster than she was used to in order to keep him from completely overtaking her. She sensed that he was trying to do the very same for her benefit, but couldn't shake off the feeling that there was a giant statue walking next to her. She suddenly felt grateful for all the times that he had simply knelt near her, finding confirmation from the moment that it had indeed always been for her benefit. It was a jarring reminder, that this was probably going to be considered normal in Detroit, and she was going to have to get used to it.

As they continued walking she found herself trying to remember what the grounds had looked like when it was in season. It had been a few years since she'd last attended the fair, but she doubted it had changed much.

"Too bad they didn't leave the prizes..." Allison mumbled to herself as they passed a few mini-game booths. The titles of the games were displayed on various garishly decorated signs above the little shacks, but the interiors were stripped bare. Wheejack leaned down as if he actually needed to get a better look.

"These don't look like a lot of fun..." he commented absently as he peered into one of the interiors. Allison wrinkled her nose at him and laughed.

"That's because they're empty, silly. These are for little games. When this place is busy they have all these stupid games where if you manage to complete some mundane task, like knocking down a whole stack of bottles, you win cheap stuffed toys..." she paused at Wheeljack's odd expression of puzzlement, and she tried gesturing with her hands what she thought would represent a stuffed animal. "They're like, fluffy, soft toys, usually shaped like animals and their stuffed with this, ah, buoyant material so it makes them squishy. Boys win them for girls on dates and stuff. It's very romantic." She shrugged, trying to forget that she'd never been on the receiving end. Wheeljack followed with the most awkward question imaginable.

"And has any boy procured one for you?" She couldn't tell if the question was a joke or if he was honestly curious.

"Ah, that would be a negative I'm afraid..." She wrinkled her nose again, averting her gaze away from Wheeljack quickly in response to his oddly prying, uncomfortable stare. She shook her head. "Eh, waste of money, and these things are usually rigged anyway." Allison was having a hard time understanding why she suddenly felt disappointed. She tried to change the subject by distracting Wheeljack with something else, because at that moment she had no idea what he could possibly be thinking, but knew that she wanted him to stop. "Oh look I bet you would totally win one of those things..." she said, walking quickly to the far side of the courtyard they had walked into. It was one of those "Test Your Strength" games that she'd never even bothered with, because she'd never known anyone strong enough to beat it. Wheeljack could, obviously, but he'd probably crush the entire thing in the process. Or cause it to explode. "There's usually a mallet here, and you hit this little thing here on the bottom as hard as you can to try and hit the bell." She was motioning with her hands and trying to explain it at the same time. "I doubt it would be a challenge for you.. but ah, people like to try and show how strong they are..."

"That sounds completely pointless." She could tell that Wheeljack was frowning, but she wondered if he was more confused, or just didn't care. Allison was suddenly afraid that maybe she was boring him, but perhaps he had other things on his mind. He was still looking at her strangely, and it was then that she noticed how bare he looked without his prized rocket on his shoulder. She frowned.

"It's just stupid fun Wheeljack... it doesn't need to have a point," she said, feeling slightly hurt. "Well, whatever, I guess that pretty much sums up all of us humans then; pointless." Allison wasn't even sure where the remark had come from, but she was suddenly feeling very alert. Maybe it was something in the air; something different.

"That isn't what I meant Allison," Wheeljack said mutely, looking down at her with dimmed eyes. She had to remember that regardless of how human he sometimes seemed, he was still an alien, who just happened to be about a million years her senior. That there were always going to be differences was an understatement, but that didn't stop her from feeling just slightly degraded.

Sighing, she walked around the corner of one of the empty containers, peering at the scuffed up grass and empty beer cans that were dumped in a corner. There was a bin nailed to a wall close by, and she half decided to be a good citizen and throw the bottles away when she heard a loud, metallic crunching sound. She raced back the way she had come expecting trouble, only to find Wheeljack standing there holding the torso of a large metal clown. Or at least it appeared to be made of metal, perhaps some type of animatronic, judging by the severed wiring and cables that were now dangling limply from it's shredded, clothed waist.

"What... what are you doing with that?"

"It's a gift," Wheeljack said, looking pleased. "I offended you, and I'm sorry... I know the boxes are empty so this was the closest thing I could find. It's cute, right? Humans like clowns." He waved it in the air at her, the hopeful glimmer in his eyes almost too much to bear.

"Some people are terrified of them, including me, so no they are actually very horrifying. Metallic, severed torsos of them are even worse..." She trailed off and bit her lip, noticing that Wheeljack's expression had wilted like an old sack, and it was then that she realized he was trying to make her feel better. "Ah... but there was no way you could have known that... so, it's alright..." Her heart melted at this, and she knew she should probably just say thank you and hope he'd realize that she was not about to drag the torso of a metal clown statue around with them.

Allison was going to express her gratitude until Wheeljack's expression suddenly got dark. It took her a moment to realize why, until she finally heard what had his attention. It made her blood turn to ice.

"Do you hear that?" Allison hissed, suddenly feeling very exposed as she stated the obvious. It was faint, but unmistakable. It was the recognizable sound of something traveling through the air very fast: a jet engine. Allison was no expert, but she knew the difference between an airliner and a military model aircraft. This was the latter, and that meant it was very, very bad news.

"Slag." Wheeljack suddenly vented loudly, and he dropped the clown torso to the ground with a heavy thud. Allison found herself unable to move as she was overcome with fear. She stood rooted to the spot, waiting for some type of instruction from her only source of protection. They had been found, which meant they had seconds, if even that. Wheeljack was taking a few steps back, and with a strange whirring clank she watched the two fins on his back spin downwards, and he reached back to pull forward his gun. It was his gun that was just too impossibly big to even be real, but it was also the only defense they likely had, and Allison was suddenly not liking those odds at all. Only one thing went through her mind.

Where the hell are they?

The growing scream of an engine was getting closer, and closer with each second. Wheeljack looked sharply at Allison and barked, "Don't stop. Don't hide. Just run!"

Allison spun around fast, and had barely got one foot off the ground when behind her came the impossible boom of firing engines, followed by the angry clanking and grinding of the impact behind her. She felt it more than she heard it, the ground beneath her shaking like a small earthquake. Instinct had told her to keep running, but her terror compelled her to turn and see what she was up against as the seismic shock of their collision made her stumble painfully.

Starscream had literally materialized out of nowhere, and in one panicked second she briefly considered adding teleportation to his list of impossible abilities... but there was no way a jet could teleport, a robot couldn't just teleport, that was impossible...

Starscream was fast, far too fast. He had caught Wheeljack not so much by surprise, but had landed with such brute force that the Autobot was clearly shocked. He had been unprepared for combat, and the full force of Starscream's twin jet engines propelled him straight into the Autobot, sending them smashing through a closed food stand. The force she had felt had been their bodies literally bouncing against the ground, finally rolling into a tangled, flailing heap into one of the game booths that her and Wheeljack had just been admiring moments before, sending it exploding into a spray of wood and plaster.

Allison was stumbling back, but she couldn't turn, her mind at the same time trying to think of a place to run to, but she just didn't know the area and was flying blind. Those were terrible odds, but she didn't have another choice. The crashing, booming sound of battle came to an abrupt stop, and Allison made a big mistake. Against her better judgment, and despite Wheeljack's warning, Allison lingered. The game stands lay strewn about in small shards of glass and metal like a child had simply thrown a tantrum and destroyed his toy model. Wheeljack lay on his back, half buried in one of the demolished stands, but all Allison could see was the searing red glow of Starscream's eyes pointed towards her, burning intensely with malicious intent. He was grinning like an overjoyed kid at a birthday party. She wasn't too sure which was the more unnerving.

"I was hoping we'd meet again Allison..." Starscream hissed. "I was so disappointed that we were cheated out of the quality time we could have shared together..." With the hand he was using to pin Wheeljack down, he pushed himself up, standing upright over his stunned quarry. Wheeljack raised an arm to grab at Starscream's leg, but the Decepticon lunged forward with a burst of hot air, arms outstretched as he snarled at her. Allison did not even have the sense to scream as she turned to flee, at the same moment that she caught the barest glimpse of Starscream getting yanked backwards by the wings, crying out with an affronted howl of displeasure as Wheeljack made every effort to hold him back.

Allison did not dare turn around, feeling her heart twist into knots in her chest as she left Wheeljack behind to fend for himself against the deranged Decepticon bent on murdering both of them. She didn't know where to go, or what exactly Wheeljack expected her to do. She couldn't hide? What sense did that make? She couldn't run forever, and she could already feel her legs wearing out beneath her. She'd been doing far too much running, and the lack of proper rest and nourishment was starting to take its toll...

There was a mighty crash followed by an explosion from some type of weapon behind her but she kept running. Against Wheeljack's orders she managed to squeeze her way into one of the buildings that was largely blocked off, but her natural instinct told her to find someplace to become lost in. She knew he'd find her, but she had to stop. She slid under a tarp, that after a brief inspection as her body cashed into a pile of bricks, was revealed to be blocking off a portion of the building that was being renovated. The forward portion was open to the outside, covered by layers of tarp and stacked particle board, and she kept her eyes on the outside waiting for the shadows that would be the telltale sign of a deadly visitor. She was heaving in gasping breaths against the uncomfortable piles of mortar and bricks, suffering as the sudden silence from outside was far more stifling then the preceding sounds of battle. She covered her mouth and struggled to slow her breathing as her thrashing heart demanded that she gasp for air, but the shadow that had descended across her temporary, feeble hiding place left her no other choice.

Allison grabbed a brick that was next to her and held it forward, poised to rush forward as soon as Starscream broke through. What she intended to do with it, she had no idea. Aiming right for the face, perhaps the glassy eyes or the panels of his nose seemed like a good place to start, so Allison tried to focus on where exactly her targets would be when he burst through. Seconds later the shadow lowered and grew in mass as it crawled under the low roof of the building, but the shape was indiscernible. It came forward fast and broke through in a panicked burst of cracking tarp-

"Wheeljack!" She gasped weakly, nearly fainting in relief as she realized she'd been about the smash a brick into his face out of sheer terror, but immediate recognition had allowed her to appropriately freeze. She dropped her arm and the brick hit the ground in a strangely muted clunk. Wheeljack's eyes were strangely wide for a face that lacked the mobility of flesh, and he seemed to be scrambling in the tight accommodations, as if trying to reach her.

"I told you not to stop!" He hissed, reaching forward. Allison finally managed to regain control of her legs and she crawled towards him frantically like a dog, panting in terror. She was stuttering apologies that she had no control over, and was about to reach out and touch his hand when the lights in his eyes and his ear plates intensified, his expression opening into affronted shock. She watched in horror as Wheeljack's entire body was yanked backwards, the sounds of boards and equipment crashing behind him as the frail tarp stupidly flopped back into place as if it was mocking her. Allison stood there agape, her hand still partially outstretched as she tried to process what she'd just seen.

This was about the peak of brutality, and her mind was just coming to terms with the chaos around her as an explosion, far too close to be real ripped through the front of the building. Boards and bricks came crashing around her, and glass pelted the bare skin of her hands as she tried to cover herself, kicking off the ground into a run. Awkwardly crashing through the layers of tarp, she frantically burst through the opening of the building, nearly running straight into Starscream's leg as he was in the process of pile-driving Wheeljack back into the ground. Allison tried to keep low as she darted past the Decepticon's leg, feeling air rush past her head as something made a grab for her. She heard Wheeljack behind her, his voice hoarse with effort as he tried once again to issue the only command he could.

"Just run!"

Running was the only thing she could do. Past the broken game booths and food carts, and back across the entrance pavilion. She tried to ignore the laughter, and responding roars of rage that was the melee behind her, but she couldn't take it anymore. There was so much running, lots and lots of running, and it was just too much. Against Wheeljack's orders, again, she stopped on the other side of the courtyard and found shelter around the corner of one of the larger buildings. She was too tired and was certain that if she kept it up she would collapse mid-stride. How easy it would have been at that moment to simply give up; to lie there gasping and wait for Starscream to finally overtake her and kill her. At least then it would be over. But she couldn't do that. She wasn't a coward, and she had to at least try; for Wheeljack's sake.

Forcing it from her mind, Allison found that she had stopped at a place where she could turn back and look at the way she'd come: where she'd left Wheeljack behind to die. Oddly, she could not find tears. She simply watched with sharp breath as once again silence reigned. There was only the occasional crunch as a piece of debris fell to the ground. Then the heavy footsteps of something turning the corner couldn't quite keep up with the rhythm of her pounding heart as her worst fears were realized. It was not Wheeljack who turned the corner victorious. It was Starscream.

He walked back out amidst the wreckage of the brawl and stood tall before Allison, a look of smug preponderance plastered across his face. With focused brutality he threw something down to the ground next to him where it bounced along the rough ground with resounding clacks before settling in a pile of churned up grass. His red and blue frame was covered in dust from battle, but Allison's full attention was on what he'd thrown. She recognized it instantly and had to suppress a gasp. Battered and crooked, she could clearly see it was a curved piece of metal, one she'd seen many times before. It was Wheeljack's faceplate.

Allison clasped her hands in front of her mouth, horrified at what it meant. She looked up at Starscream. The Decepticon was looking around, clearly unaware of her presence, but obviously seeking her out. Starscream raised his head slightly, and Allison wondered if he was actually sniffing the air to try and track her scent. He hadn't seen her yet, but his focused surveillance was quite enough for her to come to the conclusion that she was going to die if she stayed where she was, and if she wanted to try and delay her fate until help arrived, she had to move.

Turning to run, Allison immediately collided with a small, metal garbage bin. It fell to the ground with an obscenely loud crash before she could even attempt to catch it.

Cursing at her ridiculous luck Allison did not spare any additional moment to bother looking back. She could almost feel Starscream's eyes boring into her revealed position as she lept up and took off running again. Allison didn't even know where she was running, but only knew that she needed to lose him in the maze of pathways and buildings. It was hard to tell if he was pursuing her or not, for the rush of blood in her ears and sound of her ragged gasping overtook any other sound that she tried to concentrate on. By this point, Allison had lost track of where she'd run, and even worse as she came to realize, lost track of Starscream as she finally risked a look behind her. The emptiness at her back was somehow more terrifying, because it meant he could be anywhere, just waiting for her to blunder into him.

Allison finally stopped at what she briefly identified as an information booth situated at the end of a pathway intersection. She had to regroup and regain sight of her pursuer again, unless she wanted to run straight into a meat-grinder. There was nothing in either direction, except for the Ferris wheel and assortment of other uninteresting rides that she now found herself in the company of. Pressing her body against the side of the booth, she looked around, gaze darting across every building and physical object that she could see, waiting for some kind of sign, until she finally heard it.

Somewhere behind her, she could hear the thundering burst of a jet engine firing. Oddly enough it didn't sound as if it was approaching, but more like it was rising up from the ground and into the air in a vertical climb. She kept her body close to the small, weak wooden construct and thought hard. If he was in the air he'd be able to see her the moment she stepped out into the open. Outmaneuvering him on foot was one thing, but trying to outrun an F-22 Raptor at full speed was just outside of her physical capabilities.

There was an angry clank followed by the groan of metal from somewhere up above, and from memory Allison judged that Starscream was now perched on top of the Ferris wheel. She pictured him up there, sitting like a massive bird of prey, where he could literally see everything. How charming, she thought bitterly, feeling completely unsurprised at the Decepticon's dramatics. As relatively far as the Ferris wheel was, it was still too close for comfort, and to her dismay Allison could clearly hear every word that Starscream said, and unfortunately he was talking to her. His voice carried far too well.

"I can smell you little human... I know you're hiding here somewhere..." his high-pitched drawl carried across the fair grounds like it was being filtered through a loud-speaker. There was another groan of metal as Starscream shifted his weight. "And you know what I've done with Wheeljack, don't you? He won't be coming to save you! Nor will he have any snide remarks to say about my personality. No more witty jokes from him, oh no. Not after I ripped his mouth right off his face with my bare hands!" Allison did her best to ignore Starscream's taunts, turning to crawl to the edge of the information booth she was crouched behind. Looking up to make sure she wasn't in Starscream's line of sight, she ducked behind a series of cubicles and empty buildings.

They weren't very tall, and Allison had to move slowly, but they were close enough to form a series of small, open alleys that she could try to escape through. Above her somewhere, the voice of Starscream continued its gloating monologue.

"But that only means more time for us to get to know each other a little better, Miss Allison." The snide emphasis he placed on the title was almost obscene. He was treating her like the dirt he felt all humans were, so adding a title was, to him, obviously a favor.

There was a loud, crunching thud from somewhere in the distance. Allison briefly wondered if Starscream had jumped down to the ground, which meant she was running out of time, so she focused on quickening her pace. She needed to remove herself from the area, and fast.

"And oh, I'm looking so forward to having a little personal chat with you about our dear, departed friend. What stories we could share. What insights..." His voice echoed all around her, and it was still hard to judge if he was still up above or not.

There was another thud, and Allison grew more and more uncertain with what was happening, her alarm at her predicament ever increasing. Starscream was up to something, and was probably talking to her in order to draw her focus elsewhere.

Blinking heavily against the dust her body kicked up from the ground, she made a move to hide behind another low booth that was connected to a shooting gallery. There were a few discarded boxes and refrigerators that lay on their sides, and a bulky generator that was dusty and lifeless. She considered ducking behind it to see if it would allow her to take a peek at what was happening outside.

Allison had only taken a few steps towards it when the gallery exploded in a ferocious roar of rendering metal and shattering wood and glass. Dust and debris choked the air, and for a moment she was stunned and blinded, her eyes burning with particles and grit from the cloud of dust. She raised her arm to her face, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, nearly choking on the smoke. As her vision cleared and the dust settled, she realized that where the gallery had been was now the bent, mangled shape of a Ferris wheel car. For a moment Allison was confused as to how it got there, but she quickly realized with stupefied shock that Starscream had thrown it at her. Her eyes widened. Even if he didn't know where she was, all it would take would be one lucky throw.

Allison jumped up and raced around the wreckage, trying to use the remains of the dust cloud to hide her as she weaved through more of the buildings. There were more thuds, and booths around her vanished one by one, obliterated by the large, mangled cars that rained around her like mortar shells. One landed just a few feet away to her left, destroying a concession stand, showering her with its remains like the shrapnel from a grenade. She hissed as her hands and face were pelted, stung by the bits and pieces of the newly departed, but she had no time to nurse her wounds. The force almost caused her to fall down, but she managed to stumble forward, pushing onward.

"COME OOOOUUUUUUUUT YOU LITTLE PEST!" Starscream shouted, almost delusional with joy. Allison hurried around a corner, and fell with her back to a wall, panting with exhaustion and fear. She was running out of stalls, and Starscream out of cars, and she had no intention of running out into the open.

Down a short flight of stairs to her left, Allison noticed there was what looked like an old barn, fitted with metal paneling and stone extensions presumably for support. She assumed it was used for the cattle and farmyard displays, but it would have to do. With no real options to chose from, she hurried down the stairs. The door to the barn was locked with a hefty padlock, so she ran around to the side, still out of Starscream's line of sight. There was a small door there, wooden and old-looking, and her heart lept when she noticed it wasn't locked. She yanked it open as silently as possible, and shutting the door behind her she willed herself to get lost in the darkness beyond.

The sudden silence was oddly smothering after the war zone she had just run through, but she welcomed it. Allison found comfort in the the lack of exposure and vulnerability, but the back of her mind reminded her that she was not going to be able to remain in here long. Starscream hadn't quite run out of things to throw, and she wagered that he would keep throwing until he managed to flush her out. Or worse, kill her. She had the feeling he would find that disappointing.

Allison stepped further into the darkness letting her eyes adjust, and for a moment deja-vu took hold as she almost imagined that she was back at the shelter of Wheeljack's barn. A sting of regret enveloped her heart as she banished that false hope from her mind. That would just be too fortunate. Her reverie was soon broken by Starscream's taunting voice calling out from outside.

"Come out, Allison, and who knows? Maybe I'll take you back to Cybertron with me, and you can be my little pet once I have taken control of the entire Decepticon army. It will be fun! Wheeljack might have been able to join us, but sadly that is not to be the case any more..." Allison stopped to listen, scowling to herself and wishing that she was big enough to break his oddly paneled nose, if only to watch him bleed. He'd done this, all of this, and she wanted him to pay so badly...

The anger quickly turned to deep, penetrating hurt as she came to understand Starscream's words. Allison could not will herself to believe Starscream's filth; his lies. He had to be bluffing. There was no way Wheeljack was dead. She just couldn't believe it. Sinking to the floor she allowed herself just the barest of moments to entertain her fears and mourn him, wherever he was, hoping that he was at least still alive so that Ratchet could make it all better. Allison was too afraid to cry and risk being heard, so she suffered on in silence, jerking as she heard Starscream literally scream into the air at her.

"...MAGGOT! I'M TIRED OF YOUR GAMES! I tried to be nice, but it's obvious your foolish, pathetic human intellect cannot grasp the compassionate side of Starscream. Since you won't come out, I'll just have to force you out!" Allison hid her face in her hands with a whimper as she sat in the middle of the building, waiting for it to end as she heard something change; the whine of a jet engine firing followed by the angry clatter of a Decepticon transformation. The explosion of his acceleration followed as he passed over the building, low and fast making the very walls shudder in protest before silence fell again. She knew she was not safe, and he would find her soon enough.

These few precious moments were her only chance to take stock of where she was and find a better, less destroyed area to hide. He had clearly known she had been in the general vicinity, else she doubted he would have gone through the trouble to so kindly encourage her to show herself. That meant, she wanted to be as far away as possible, but running out also felt like a huge mistake. She was torn between staying put in the darkness, not that it would help, and finding a somewhat less open place to lay low until help arrived. Or until Starscream became bored.

With a heave she lifted herself up wearily, dragging herself to the wall where a window would give her a view of the Ferris wheel and the outlaying area. She was somehow numb to the imagery of the dented Ferris wheel now lacking several cars, the remaining ones swaying dangerously in the wake of Starscream's exit. The top rung on the wheel was bent downwards at a sharp angle, giving the impression of a sloppily rendered "u" shape. Some poor groundskeeper was in for a big surprise...

There weren't a lot of options for her, but she'd have to come up with something fast before Starscream decided to take a second shot at her. She half expected him to start shredding the buildings apart at any moment searching for her, and if the demolition didn't kill her immediately, Starscream would likely soon finish the job.

Allison jerked as she felt something against her hip move, a heaving rustle from within her bag that startled her enough to illicit a small yelp of surprise. In a panic she hefted the bag off from her shoulder and dropped it hurriedly onto the ground as if it had burned her, backing away and preparing herself to make another run for it. One of the flaps lifted, and the two yellowish crustacean eyes that poked out from inside made her stop in surprise. In her fear to get away from Starscream, she'd forgotten all about Bean.

"Bean!" Allison whispered, bending down to prop the bag up. "Stay inside, we're in trouble." She breathed, staring inside the cluttered darkness that had somehow ended up being Bean's home. The small Autobot creation made a very small chirping sound, and Allison's heart froze. Bean  
was Autobot technology. She had no idea if Starscream had any ability to track Autobot hardware anywhere, but as a scientist she had no doubts he most likely did. She hurriedly closed the bag, feeling a slight pang of guilt for trapping Bean inside, though she knew the small robot was most likely aware of the situation, and probably had more of an idea of what to do than she did.

And what do I do?, she thought to herself. She was sitting down on the dry, dirty floor of a barn, surrounded by pitch blackness with no way to tell what Starscream was up to. She was fresh out of ideas, and even if the Autobots were to suddenly show up, they would have no idea she was here. Optimus Prime could just obliterate the barn with one shot of that big gun of his, and she would be gone. They probably wouldn't even care, she thought bitterly in her doom-infused mindset.

No, that wasn't true. That wasn't what the Autobots were about, and Wheeljack had taught her better than that. The thought of his name made her want to breakdown right there on the floor and simply die, but she bit her lip, trying to will herself to survive and concentrate on listening. He had told her to run, and he was counting on her, wherever he was.

This was how she managed to hear the faint sound of something creaking from somewhere above her. The first thing that came to mind was that it was simply the barn settling. There was another creak, and twice in a row in such a short space of time was simply not a coincidence, not in Allison's life. It was then that she faintly noticed dust particles falling onto her shoulders and around her, her nose beginning to tingle as she breathed them in. Holding her breath, she looked up as Bean hissed like a feral cat from within her bag. Somewhere above the wooden timber beams, nestled amongst the rafters, the harsh glow of two red, searing eyes looked back down at her.

Allison swallowed hard as her breath escaped her, and she stood slowly with her hands out in automatic surrender, her brain trying to comprehend just how what she was seeing was physically possible. The two eyes disengaged from the beams and fell to earth fast with a heavy thud, accompanied by the bulky shape of Starscream as he materializing in front of her. His shape shifted like a flowing nightmare in the dark, and with one quick movement of his hand he swatted her back, sending her sprawling to the floor in a jumbled heap of confusion.

"I think I shall enjoy this..." Starscream sighed heavily, his voice a purr as he slinked forward towards her. Allison managed to turn just in time to see his hands outstretched and ready to grab her. She had no idea what he was about to do, but all manner of terrors passed through her mind as she thought her last moments were passing before her eyes in blinding fast-forward. "Did you really think you could hide from me? A Seeker will always find its prey..."

All she could think of was why...

"W-why are you doing this?" she begged, backing away on her hands as she tried to remove herself from his reach, but he was closing the distance faster than she could widen it. "What d-do you w-want? I-I don't have it and I don't want it!" She whimpered at him, ignoring the guilt over her sudden weakness but Starscream was closing the gap between them with each lingering, heavy step. He was hovering over her like a juggernaut; a vicious, smiling juggernaut. She was about to die in a very painful way.

"Why Allison, that's not all I'm after..." he purred, crouching down towards her, making her scramble just to extract herself from his closeness. Her skin crawled from the magnetic heat of his body. "It's you I want, didn't you know? Why else would I spend my time hunting you down?" He crooned with mock sympathy at her expense. "We have many things to talk about, you and I."

"I don't want anything to do with you," she barked back with surprising malice, and Starscream flinched backwards, if only an inch. "Giant... brainless turkey-" Allison immediately knew she'd chosen the worst possible moment to let the stupidest comment imaginable slip out of her mouth before she'd even finished saying it. But she'd already committed to it, and couldn't stop herself from letting the insult fly. For a moment, it looked like Starscream wasn't going to react. His expression remained blank, his eyes glowering down at her with unreadable emotion before his face finally screwed up tightly into an ugly, vicious sneer. The newly created angles on his face made him appear almost demonic was rage.

"You... miserable... INSOLENT little whelp... I should CRUSH you right here for such disrespect..." He snapped at her, face coming dangerously close to her own. Allison flinched, and simply waited for her fate, knowing that she'd likely just sealed it. But the next moment Starscream's face relaxed, and his eyes narrowed at her shrewdly as if daring her to continue. He tilted his head just slightly, and the smoothness of his movements reminded her of a snake about to strike. Was he waiting for an apology?

"I'm useless to you." Allison breathed, her brief stint of bravery diminished just as quickly as it had surfaced. She could no longer bear the heavy, palpable silence as Starscream nearly drilled searing holes into her with his unmoving glare.

"Oh on the contrary, you are of great use to me. Right now I care nothing for that pitiful excuse for technology that Megatron so desperately wants." The way he spat out the name of his superior called to mind something very, very curious, but Allison did not feel that the moment was quite appropriate to ask him about his disdain for Megatron. Before she could think on it, Starscream reached forward, the tips of his pointed fingers nearly brushing against Allison's thigh as she managed to angle her body away and out of his reach. His head tilted curiously. "I have much more selfish matters to attend to, opportunities that I simply could not pass up…"

"You mean payback? …Haven't you done enough to him?" Allison dared.

"He is a TRAITOR!" Starscream slammed a fist onto the ground just mere feet from where Allison was cowering, his grating voice reverberating against the walls. His sudden dip into feral outrage made Allison go fetal, curling up into herself in a measly attempt to protect her body. Despite this, Starscream actually appeared to be ignoring her, if only for a brief moment as if lapsing into a memory. "And a fool… just like Jetfire... and selfish in their own right... how DARE they not consult ME?" His fist went back into the ground, but this time he was glaring straight into Allison as he brought his hand down just inches from her. All she could do was gape, and listen in horror as Starscream went on with his deranged rant. "Such intelligence utilized to support the weak…" Allison was having a hard time fathoming why he was staring at her, as if she was somehow responsible for whatever it was that seemed to be antagonizing him, or at the very least, knew what the hell he was talking about.

Allison stared back, a sudden, sliver of realization burrowing itself into her awareness when the expression on his face, for just one brief moment, was that of long-suffering sadness intensified by the rage that fueled it. This was clearly a guy who had some problems, some deeply scarring problems from a past that so far Wheeljack had not been willing to share with her. This was something that he was keeping inside him, and for some reason, telling her before killing her.

Allison didn't know why, but it was only drawing out the inevitable. She was damn sure that if by some miracle she survived this, Wheeljack was not going to weasel his way out of telling her just what had happened between them to cause such a deranged psychosis.

"They paid for it... Wheeljack paid for it... but now…" all of Starscream's attention was back on her, his red eyes narrowed dangerously, roving up and down Allison's body as she tried to back away from his new-found focus on her. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress a whimper that managed to escape from her throat as a half-hearted squeak of fear. There was too much purpose in his eyes. "…The pain he felt when I ripped the Spark from his chest will pale in comparison to what I am about to do to you. It's a pity that Wheeljack is not here to partake in the fun, but I do not begin things that I do not intend to finish." He smiled at her with so much fake charisma that would have almost fooled her had she not currently been pinned down by him. She doubted that Starscream had one sincere servo in his chassis, as she knew Wheeljack would have said. "Now I think personal exploration time is over…"

Allison knew that this was her queue to run, as Starscream brought his hand forward. She tried to turn her body and scramble up into an awkward run, despite knowing she wouldn't get far, but instinct had taken control. She only managed a few steps before she could feel the supreme weight of Starscream bearing down on her. Something hard hit her back, forcing her down as her knees buckled. She screamed as she hit the ground with a heavy slap, her head connecting hard with the wooden floor bringing stars to her eyes. Her body was pressed against the dusty boards by what she understood to be Starscream's hard, angular hand. Before he could smother her, she was dragged backwards against the floor, her bare skin grating against the rough surface of the wooden slats as she scrambled for something to hold onto. But as his fingers closed around her, scooping her from the ground like a child taking a handful of sand, Allison felt the end quickly approaching.

There was a shriek below from Bean, perhaps reacting in fear, but the little drone could do nothing for her. Starscream hoisted her up from the ground with all the care of a cat playing with a mouse that it was about to kill. Allison tried to make a sound in protest, but found her body in agony as his fingers constricted around her chest and arms. Breath did not come to her, and all she could manage were tiny, insignificant whimpers, unable to focus on anything but the pain. Starscream didn't exactly need to try in order to cause her discomfort, but she doubted he was concerned with delicacy. Even more so when he swung her around, throwing her neck forward and all senses into a state of vertigo, only to bring her to his eye level.

"Not quite as mouthy now, are we?" he quipped, smirking. "Although it appears as if you are unable to speak." He squeezed slightly, and Allison groaned as the last ounces of air were forced from her lungs, her ribs screaming in pain as her body succumbed to the strength she couldn't even begin to hope to withstand. Her face was getting warm as all the blood rushed upwards, and she was beginning to feel faint as the instinctive struggle to breathe fought with her current physical impairment; she was losing.

Starscream's grip slackened, if only to enjoy toying with her and delight in her struggle. Allison gasped as the pressure against her body lessened. She sucked in air, but it was like trying to take in a milkshake through a straw. She could breathe, but not well. It was a battle against Starscream that she could not hope to win. She just had to hope it would be quick. Asphyxiation was not a good way to die…

"We don't want you dying before the fun starts, now do we?" Starscream said smoothly as he kept his grip slack, but tight enough that she didn't slide through and onto the ground below. He brought a finger up to her face and she recoiled back in revulsion, but much to her displeasure she had nowhere to go. He had complete access to touch her, and he was taking full advantage of it, sliding a massive finger down the side of her face. He let his finger linger on the long-since scabbed over cut on her forehead from the seismic event in the city. Pressing hard, he broke skin and drew blood anew. Allison barely felt it, but the dull sensation of the sting she felt was enough to make her choke out a whimper. "I have big plans for you, and don't worry you'll feel all of it."

Suddenly Starscream gave her a vicious squeeze, and screamed out the last ounces of air from her lungs before collapsing against his hand from the agony. She heard him laugh haughtily, before stopping abruptly with a startled gasp. All Allison could see through her oxygen deprived vision seconds later was the brief widening of Starscream's eyes. A muffled boom of something exploding near them, the wall, actually brought startled terror to his face as he spun around attempting to make sense of what was transpiring around them. New light filled the room, but it was like staring through a glass bottle for Allison; blurry and confusing.

"The only fun to be had will be at your expense, Deceptiscum."

Starscream made a gagging sound akin to a gasp, sucking in his surprise like an unpleasantly foul beverage. Allison could not entirely see the source of the voice, but the low, thundering drawl was like an old friend. Through her hazy vision she could see the side of the barn had been torn apart, sunlight streaming in through the gaping hole in the wall. Silhouetted against the sun, a giant Autobot with fierce azure eyes stood there, beams of light pouring around him like a heavenly glow. From his back sprouted wings, around his head a halo of blue light shone like the surface of the moon. It was Allison's angel. It was Wheeljack, and he was alive.

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**Perfectly campy ending aside, I would bet that some would argue Starscream is behaving slightly OOC. But this is simply my interpretation, and it felt appropriate to make him a completely creepy bastard. I guess take it as you will.**


	37. Loss

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**Decided to break this up for effect. One more chapter should do it.**

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Starscream's face was one of complete surprise, which Wheeljack found to be completely satisfying.

"Alive? Even now?" His expression changed to a dark grimace, and he laughed carelessly, holding Allison aloft like some sort of trophy. "You're sturdier than you look, Autobot. But it might actually be even more fun this way."

Wheeljack watched the suffering on Allison's face as she stared at him with bleary, unfocused eyes. He felt a twinge of embarrassment creep into his spark as something registered in her gaze; a dazed and confused expression that was evidently taking in his newly exposed face. Now was not the time for modesty, however. Starscream had his Allison in his clutches, and Wheeljack was not going to stand for it.

"I upgraded," he snarled, raising his gun to the level of Starscream's arrogant, insufferable face. "And you should be more thorough. Let her go Starscream."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you Autobot." Starscream's reply was infuriatingly simple, as if they were having a casual conversation over the results from some experiment. The Decepticon was enjoying this, and that made Wheeljack angrier than he'd ever felt during his long, tired life.

"You mean don't rip you to shreds? But I think that's a wonderful idea..." Wheeljack returned, but Starscream held up his other hand as if to stop him, a smug grin on his face as he eyed the weaponry pointed between his eyes.

"You haven't the circuitry, Autobot. No matter how angry you get, you never could. I'm willing to wager the worst you could do is perhaps offer a witty retort before fleeing from my majestic grace." Starscream said haughtily. Allison made an indecipherable sound from Starscream's grip, something between a human whimper and a groan. Wheeljack jerked forward with a start as if responding to her call.

"No, that's your usual tactic, Starscream. Something you're pretty good at, I might add." Wheeljack could feel his body burning, the tempered metal red-hot as his battle systems kicked into overdrive. Every inch of his surface seemed to vibrate with the anxious rage that he was finding very hard to control.

Starscream scowled at him. "Very smug, Autobot. But we'll see just how smug once I end her pathetic life right before your optics." He lofted Allison tauntingly into the air and waved her around ungracefully. Her face was obscured by the soft, organic tufts of her hair, which flopped limply back and forth with each pass of Starscream's fist. She was stunned, barely offering any sort of struggle other than a weak flail of her body. "Oh my, Wheeljack. She's looking a little on the limp side. I wouldn't want to wave her around too hard, would I? I feel I just might break her in two."

"Put her down right now, or Primus help me..." Wheeljack barked, cursing sharply in Cybertronian as Allison's face finally came into view from behind the curtain of her hair. Her face was flushed with red, and her eyes were wide with uncontrollable hysteria. Wheeljack didn't know how to describe such a human emotion as it was new to him, but it made a spasm of fear shoot through his body and burn his core. It was going to be very difficult to talk his way out of this one.

"So help you, you'll do nothing. I could just drop her right now and crush her like an insect." Starscream lifted her frighteningly close to his sadistic smirk, cycling air exuberantly. "Or maybe I might disassemble her, starting with these flimsy little limbs." He dropped Allison onto his other palm, and she made no sound. In fear, Wheeljack hesitated and lowered his weapon, rapidly trying to process all possible scenarios at the same time. Short-lived relief flooded through his systems as he saw her chest heave. He managed to catch her eyes as her head fell backwards at an awkward angle, one that even Wheeljack knew was not physically normal or comfortable for her species. Allison's body seemed be out of her own control as her neck remained oddly contorted, the shade of her skin paler by the minute. Her eyes were unseeing as she looked into his face.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch. Allison's head jerked upwards as her eyes suddenly snapped shut with a suffering scream. Starscream had pinched one of her arms between two of his fingers and was pulling it at an odd angle, staring intently before he finally shrugged. "I haven't decided yet. Ooh... so many options." He dropped her arm, where it remained uselessly inert against his hand. The only remaining movement continued to be the uneven, struggling rise and fall of her chest as she rasped.

"Starscream," Wheeljack said calmly, his panels blinking a dimly subdued plea. He was no longer able to watch his Bonded suffer so profusely. If Starscream was not just going to let her go, the best he could do was buy some time and hope that Prime returned with the much-needed backup to save them. "Just let her go... and we both walk away from this. You're quarrel is with me, not her..." Wheeljack had never liked to beg, especially in present company, but he had run out of options, and his Spark was screaming in agony for him to do something crazy. Starscream didn't appear to be paying attention as he stared down at the bundle in his hands intently.

Perhaps Starscream was also stalling. If he had really wanted to kill her, he would have done so by now. Did he too have reinforcements on the way? Wheeljack suddenly felt panic grip his systems, and he lifted his weapon again. Hesitation kept him from pulling the trigger even though he had his mark. He was confident he could avoid hitting Allison, but if he shot Starscream, in the head, or even in the leg, the Decepticon would likely drop her. Wheeljack didn't think catching her would save her.

"Oh I disagree Autobot," Starscream finally said, looking up. His fingers flexed, but Allison still did not move. Perhaps she was just frozen with fear, or maybe worse, damaged to the point she was physically immobilized. But she was alive at least. "I want to watch you suffer, as I have suffered." Starscream continued mockingly, tilting his head. "I have never understood why you Autobots would waste your time on such fragile little things." His attention turned back to Allison, where he seemed to be completely absorbed in thought, if the Decepticon was even capable of such an endeavor. "Beg Autobot. I want to watch you beg at my feet. It will be so satisfying..." His smile was almost innocent as his eyes flicked back to Wheeljack, flaring a burning red before he turned back to the human in his grasp.

The moment wouldn't last, and Wheeljack seized it, not intending to let it go. He readied his weapon, the cylindrical end of the canon spinning and emitting a whine which caught the attention of the Decepticon again, who paused, his fingers still gripping Allison.

"That's another thing you've always been good at. Talking way too much." Wheeljack said, with a glimmer of defiance, the glow of his panels shifting to a dangerous tone of red. Starscream's eyes narrowed.

"I'm the only one worth listening to, especially on this pathetic rock," he said slowly. He gave Allison a little pinch, and she squirmed. "Still, we do seem to have reached a stalemate," the Decepticon continued shrewdly. "I congratulate you..."

Wheeljack adjusted his aim, causing his weapon to whine again. "Like I said, you talk too much.  
Hand her over...now." The last syllable was accompanied by an angry flash of red as his energy panels nearly matched the searing color of his opponent's eyes.

"You are correct, Autobot. I admit that even I tend to touch on the melodramatic. It wouldn't be the first time that I..."

"Starscream," Wheeljack pointed his weapon at the Decepticon, eyes a desaturated white with exasperated fury. "Let her go."

Starscream cycled air with a dramatic shrug of his shoulders before he knelt down with an arm outstretched. With a quick push, he dropped Allison onto the ground, where she rolled a few feet forward between them. For a moment she gasped, chest heaving as she fought for air with new-found freedom. Wheeljack wanted nothing more than to go towards her, but he was afraid that moving too close would endanger her even further. After all, Starscream was still smiling.

Allison groaned, and Wheeljack watched as she raised her head to look up at Starscream. The Decepticon smiled disgustingly at her, and Wheeljack flinched with the suppressed need to strangle him. This was a feeling so terrifyingly new to Wheeljack that he had no idea how to quantify it. It was... possibly blood lust... born from such a heightened level of jealousy and rage that the Autobot had never known before.

"Go on, human. You're free. Go to your Autobot friend now."

Wheeljack knelt delicately, arms held out and weapon held askew to emphasis his desire for de-escalation. He would even let Starscream go if necessary, his only concern Allison as he tried to keep his threatened Spark firmly rooted into its casing. It thundered painfully within his chassis, making every inch of his body itch with heightened tension. He kept a careful optic on the Decepticon on the other side of his charge should he even dare try anything.

Allison barely moved, except for a weak cough as she recovered from the drop. He felt encouraged once she began to stir, slowly lifting her body to a shaky stand. Allison looked at him wearily, her eyes taking a moment to adjust and widen just slightly at what she saw as realization dawned on her face. Wheeljack all at once felt very conscious of the open air on his damaged face and he had to force himself not to shrink back, knowing that there was just too much at stake to let his insecurities get in the way. He forced himself to continue looking forward.

"Do you think she's afraid, Wheeljack?" Starscream's question sounded innocent enough, but Wheeljack knew that he was trying to get a rise out of him, or at the very least, humiliate him even further. He glared viciously at the Decepticon across from him, who was regarding him with an air of almost self-congratulating approval.

Wheeljack forced himself to keep one eye on the Decepticon and one eye on Allison, who was still watching him with focused curiosity. There were a few agonizing moments where he was waiting for her expression to change to one of horror, or disgust, but that never came. Allison remained silent, but unexpectedly, her face softened to one of understanding.

Wheeljack motioned for her to come towards him, but her head jerked to the side. It was a quick, very subtle movement like she was shaking her head, too afraid to move. He stood, partially stooped, and began to move towards her before he was abruptly stopped with a jerk.

"Stay where you are." Starscream barked, bringing his arm up to aim his null cannon directly at Wheeljack's face. He looked down with a half-smile. "It's alright Allison. Go to your precious Autobot." Starscream spat, all ounces of false sweetness now gone. "He is waiting for you." His optics flicked back onto Wheeljack knowingly. Wheeljack froze, fearful to take any further steps towards Allison and risk escalating the situation even higher. Even then, Wheeljack was processing the moment and coming to his own frightful conclusions. This was already far too escalated. Starscream was going to kill her, he was just waiting for the right moment to inflict the most pain. It was glaringly obvious...

Allison simply kept staring forward as if she was afraid to look back, sensing the danger behind her. This was human instinct dramatically being played out right in front of him. It was almost like watching a lab-rat awaiting the fate that it was keenly aware of, but unable to prevent.

Wheeljack did not feel any sense of scientific wonder or fascination at the display of organic behavior before him, which may have been a wonderful chance for observation orns ago. All that could be felt was his own primal panic as the relief of seeing her put down was quickly overpowered by terror.

"Allison?" Wheeljack muttered quietly. She shook her head again and her eyes closed. She didn't look behind her, but her hands were clenched tightly into tense fists at her sides. If she just came forward, he could protect her. Why did she not move?

Finally, she took one agonizing step forward and renewed hope filled Wheeljack like a cistern overflowing with water. It seemed terrifyingly far, but a few more steps and she would be near enough to him that he could scoop her up and leap forward firing. She took another step and swayed, before stopping again, her body rigid and tense. Starscream made a noise as if to cough, causing her to jump.

"Perhaps you just need a little push," Starscream's grin widened as his attention turned from Wheeljack down to Allison. It was too fast to prevent, and before Wheeljack could react, he heard a click, followed by a quick, high-pitched shriek. In a fraction of a second Starscream lowered his arm and aimed directly at Allison's back. She did not react, perhaps not sensing it, or not hearing it in time to come to terms with what was happening. Time seemed to slow as Wheeljack rushed forward, but he was not fast enough as the prickling sensation of a charging null-ray pulled at his body like greedy fingers. There was a burst of pulsing energy as a thin, angry jet of light hit Allison square in the back, pushing her forward with a burst of white hot light as it impacted with her body. She did not scream or make any sound at all, as her body crumpled like a limp protoform shell into a heap on the ground.

Wheeljack did not need to scan her to understand what had happened. His Spark reacted with a violent surge of pain, forcing a focused scream from his vocalizer as he watched her fall.

"NO!" Wheeljack felt all feeling and sensation leave his body as he crashed down onto his knees mid-leap. All of his inner workings scrambled, as if code was reaching a dead end and ceasing, his Spark seeming to freeze and gather into itself from within its chamber in his aching body. He landed over her, no longer heeding the Decepticon presence near him. All he could do was stare downwards at the limp, cooling bundle, scanning her time and time again with massive shaking hands that trembled above her. All of the readings came back the same: All electrical activity had ended.

The most profound sorrow overwhelmed him, confusing his processor and jumbling his inner-workings into quick, cycling thoughts and commands that overlapped and looped time and again like viral code. How had he so easily forgotten her fragility, her undeniable need for his protection from them? He remembered it now.

As he looked down at her lifeless body, the back of her jacket singed and still smoking, he finally understood his Sparkbond. It was pain. That was all it had brought him. He thought he had been given joy and the scientific fulfillment of studying an intelligent alien species up close, but in the end it had been violently taken from him as if it was something he was never supposed to have. The hopelessness, the sorrow, and the overpowering ache throughout his body that extended to the very tips of his limbs was not just the severing of his Bond, but it was the finality in the understanding of what that meant. He had failed the mission, and most of all, he had failed to protect her.

"Oh my, I guess I overestimated her endurance..." Starscream laughed, but to Wheeljack it was like the grating of metal against stone; unbearable. "Silly me-"

Before Starscream could finish whatever he was attempting to say Wheeljack lunged forward, hellbent on only one thing. He could say that what he felt now was something so terrifyingly, profoundly, perfect. It felt right. He had never been vengeful or even particularly violent even when the war had begun, but he'd done what was necessary. Now necessity was not important, nor was retaining any morale purity that he may have still had. He needed to kill Starscream, and he needed to kill him now.

Wheeljack knew he would be punished later, perhaps even thrown into confinement by Optimus Prime himself for the vengeance he was about to inflict, but he didn't care. He realized now that everything else had been meaningless. The long, suffering war had been meaningless. The only thing in his long life that had given it meaning, had actual given him something worth fighting for, was now gone. There was nothing left to lose.

At best, the Decepticon looked startled, but not nearly as terrified as he should have been. It was infuriating the way Starscream seemed completely unfazed with the atrocity he'd just committed. Wheeljack managed to catch Starscream off guard as he heaved the Seeker up by the waist, pushing them both forward and through the other side of the building. Starscream clawed at one of the dorsal sensory fins on his back to gain push, and closed his fist, crushing through the plating as he pulled back viciously. The resonating crunch as his fin snapped made the Autobot's back arch with sudden, excruciating pain. This gave Starscream enough leverage to yank Wheeljack off, kicking him in the chest and sending him flying to the side where he crashed in a leaking heap between the barn and the adjacent building.

Wheeljack managed to shake off the dizzying pain as he bled, jumping up and forward bringing his blaster around to fire. He'd managed to keep a hold of it during the scuffle, but he was not fast enough as a well-timed missile hit him square in the chest, sending him careening across the grounds and through a sturdy brick wall, which was obliterated by the force of his body as he crashed through. The new pain in his chest was constricting, the armored plates on his front dented courtesy of the explosive power from the human weaponry Starscream had adapted to so expertly. But the pain was intense, and lanced through his systems like throbbing pulses of heat.

Wheeljack was stunned as his back-up systems screamed alarms in his processor, all manner of failure warnings flashing before his optic scanners telling him that stasis-lock was imminent. Forcing his repair systems full-throttle he shut down all unnecessary neural pathways and diverted every remaining Energon bridge to his battle systems, alarms blinking out as his optics refocused, burning hot with enraged vigor.

Starscream jumped into the wreckage which surrounded Wheeljack's stunned body as he was struggling to a hasty stand, pieces of brick and roofing still coming down in small bursts against his armor. He perched himself on a pile of rubble and glowered down, laughing.

"Now really Autobot, that's rather impulsive, even for you. What's the matter, has the human made you sloppy?" He dropped down and stood over Wheeljack, who was still blinking the last of the pain from his optics. Starscream literally pounced on him with a heavy thunk, forcing him back into the ground with a painful crunch. The Decepticon Seeker grasped both of Wheeljack's shoulders in the vulnerable areas between his chest and where the plates of his upper arms began, squeezing and crushing the delicate wiring and joint anatomy underneath. Wheeljack squirmed uselessly as the motor lines were cut off, arms going limp and helpless at his sides.

"You're not worth enough to speak of her..." Wheeljack growled, fingers weakly searching for a weapon that was not within reach.

"You're arrogance disgusts me," Starscream spat. "What exactly is it that makes you so much more righteous then me? You turned your back on me, and not only was that the most profound betrayal but you spit on everything I'd tried to accomplish. Jetfire would not have-"

"It wasn't supposed to happen that way-" Wheeljack grunted, managing to force feeling back into his arms, enough to reach up and attempt to pry Starscream from him. He struggled, but was nearly immobilized by the Decepticon's grip and found his own hands without enough strength. "...You were unstable... he never..." Wheeljack was pawing uselessly at Starscream's iron grip, instilling a vicious squeeze from the Seeker that forced a startled whine from his internal systems.

"UNSTABLE?" Starscream roared, his eyes burning like searing coals in a fire. He leaned forward, seething. "I'll show you unstable, Autobot..." He hissed near Wheeljack's face, then yanked the Autobot up to his feet and brought him to eye level. His crimson eyes burned holes straight through Wheeljack's very uncertain expression. "I'm going to kill you Autobot, like I killed that worthless little femme... "

Wheeljack felt a new surge of rage born from his Spark flash through his body, renewing his strength with ferocious power. He managed to kick Starscream's legs from beneath him, and they both went sprawling back into the piles of bricks and glass. In his shock Starscream let go, allowing Wheeljack the needed moment to remove himself from the Decepticon's reach and prepare himself for a counter-attack. He saw after a quick scan of the area that he'd lost his sidearm when he'd gone flying, but he no longer needed it. His bare hands alone were enough to do the job he intended, and in fact, would be more satisfying.

But nothing would bring Allison back, a smaller voice inside his head nagged. Why stoop to the Decepticon's level when it would make little difference? Why become that monster and sacrifice his dignity and honor? These voices continued on in his head, over and over again, arguing with his baser instincts while Starscream attempted to roll over his wings and get back onto his feet. The voices were wasting his time.

Starscream let out an enraged howl as he pushed his body around with focused agility, twitching with sudden fury. Wheeljack squashed the final words of the voices in his processor and surged forward, just as Starscream lunged with his jet boosters firing. While he was not at top speed, the propulsive force that smashed straight into Wheeljack's mid section sent the two of them careening through the other side of the building and into the next. Then another, and another, destruction raining down upon them until Wheeljack managed to dislodge Starscream's grip from around his body, causing him to veer wildly off-course. Their bodies finally collided with the less-forgiving strength of the earth with a disastrous crunch of metallic frames. They bounced away from another in opposite directions, sparks and sprays of concrete and earth taking off in multiple directions with each impact of their bodies.

"You die, Autobot," Starscream spat out a murky, pinkish fluid from his mouth as he crawled forward to a stand. He was practically buzzing with electrified fury as the whine of his null-ray canons powered up to dangerous levels. He raised his arms, hunched over as he staggered forward, lips curled in a snarl.

Without removing his optics from the blood raged Decepticon, Wheeljack took a step back as the plates of his arm began to shift and buckle. The revealed cannon beneath hummed with a rhythmic pulse as charged particles spun, creating the energy field of the gyro-inhibitor; the machine-stopper. If Starscream couldn't move, he would not struggle during the kill. Wheeljack's face burned.

"You first."

* * *

**Spoiler alert: She's not dead. Well, she won't be. **

**Since that's out of the way, just a few final notes before I post the last chapter. Thanks again for the reviews and watches. I realize that I'd introduced plot points here and there that I probably didn't elaborate on as much as I should have, but I tried to keep loose ends to a minimum. Learning process I suppose. Had I been doing this from the beginning I likely would have changed the focus of the plot to not revolve around yet another maguffin-y type thing that everyone has to chase. Well, I'm not starting over at this point so it is what it is. If I continue writing I will try to avoid these pitfalls again.  
**


	38. The End

**(c) Hasbro/Takara**

**02/27/2011 - Edits DONE! I think... I've made it about as good as it can be without having to re-write the story. Here's to looking forward and learning from mistakes and stumbles.**

**Final note: Thanks to everyone just for reading, even through the ups and downs in quality. This story took a while, but I'm proud to at least have finished it, even if there are things that I would change if I were to do it again. This was really just something fun I did for myself, but I'm happy that at least some people got enjoyment out of it. I realize there are more popular stories out there, but it's just nice to be able to share and know that at least one person had a look. **

**I would like to continue writing, so there may be a continuation story on the way tentatively titled "Pendulum's Fall." I haven't worked out a lot of the details yet, but I'm hoping to avoid the nonsense plot loops that I got caught up in this time around, and do a better job with Allison (not having to re-write large chunks of story comes to mind). Please stay tuned.**

**Speech in italics = com talk**

**I did my best with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker for the brief amount of time they're here. Once again, I'm taking some liberties with canon, so this is kind of my interpretation. And we'll just pretend this medically makes sense.  
**

**Much love and thanks again! -Disgruntled Cola**

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"Come on Ratchet, you know you missed us."

The cheerful, almost cocky observation over the shared com was enough to grate on Ratchet's already tested nerves and make him shudder with the nervous tension he was feeling. If Sideswipe wanted to play that game and make things worse, then fine.

"About as much as being stepped on by a gestalt," Ratchet grunted in response.

"That much, huh?" The red Autobot currently driving haphazardly along his flank was completely unfazed by the medic's sarcasm. In fact, he only seemed to find it encouraging, and continued to drive along side Ratchet as if he wanted to be tormented. Autobot or not, Sideswipe and his brother simply loved to mess with him.

"I still think bringing you spark-punks along was a bad idea. But orders are orders, and I trust Prime's judgment," Ratchet said curtly, cycling air within his systems out of sheer frustration. "If not his taste in backup" he added testily. If Prime was listening in on the conversation he didn't let it be known. Ratchet knew that Prime would never let his amusement show, opting to appear outwardly neutral. He would simply let them carry on, like he always did, unless things turned exceptionally disastrous.

If the twins were known for anything, it was their constant disruptions. If they were not rigging up some horrendous prank that inevitably led to the physical harm of some poor unsuspecting Autobot, it was them in pieces in his med-bay. It seemed whatever they did, they were always getting themselves or others in trouble, and it was always up to Ratchet to clean up after them. Or, in some cases, put them back together. And of course all they would do is complain about it, much to Ratchet's displeasure. He'd long ago stopped trying to discourage them. Whatever lecture he served up generally went out the other audio anyway.

"C'mon Ratchet, just say it..."

Sideswipe had sidled up next to his brother, who was surprisingly mute during the whole affair. That could either be a good thing, or a bad thing, depending on one's perspective. Silence generally meant that Sideswipe's yellow and black counterpart was in a foul mood, and that was often less desirable an alternative.

Ratchet had no doubt that Sunstreaker likely felt it beneath him and a waste of his precious time to come to Allison's aid, and was now going to pout about it for the duration of their journey. Sideswipe by comparison was practically the complete opposite, which was all the stranger considering they were Spark-twin brothers. Sunstreaker was haughty, arrogant, and at times a crude pain in the afterburner. His brother on the other hand was usually the instigator of their shenanigans, and had about as much common sense and class as an exhaust pipe. But he at least knew when it was appropriate to be serious and keep his mouth shut. At the very least, he seemed to have a shred of humanity to him. His brother did not, which was somewhat unsettling, making it well known that he found most human affairs completely uninteresting.

The Autobots didn't like to talk much about Sunstreaker, partially because if the Autobot warrior ever found out, that was a guaranteed trip to the medbay, sometimes in pieces. Still, he had proven his usefulness often enough, and with Sideswipe there to balance his brother's aggression and keep him in check, Ratchet did not question his loyalty to the Autobot cause and what they stood for. He would do what was necessary and what was asked of him, but not without complaint. Even so, it was no secret that Sunstreaker had certain distaste for the planet and its natural inhabitants, even if it was just a front for a deeper psychosis.

Which was part of the reason why Ratchet was uncertain as to how well the rendezvous was going to go. If Sunstreaker was already in a bad mood, then there was no telling how he would treat Allison, who was, as Sunstreaker would call it, a mere flesh bag. There was no doubt that Allison would not find the term endearing, and neither would Wheeljack.

Thankfully he wouldn't have to linger on that thought long, as they were nearing the the valley where they were to meet up with Wheeljack and his human. Ratchet felt that it couldn't be any sooner, for the way Sideswipe was taking full advantage of the road it was some type of Primus-willed miracle that they had not earned themselves an audience.

"So..." Sideswipe began again over the com, his voice almost tentative, but curious. "Is she hot?" Ratchet nearly swerved off the road in disbelief.

"What the-"

"Boys, cram a sparkplug into it." Arcee finally chose that moment to say something. Up until this point she had opted to remain quiet, riding silently from her position close to Ratchet. She would be lying if she tried to deny she was getting some amusement from the twins giving the older Autobot a hard time, but she also wanted to be close enough in case Ratchet decided to put an axe into Sideswipe's windshield. Not that she could blame him after that little comment.

"Hey," Sunstreaker said slyly, finally entering the shared conversation over the com. "I think you upset Ratchet, brother. We gotta be careful about what we say in front his lady, you know?"

"My what?" Ratchet spluttered.

"You two!" Arcee shouted, sternly. "Enough. Primus, I'd forgotten your manners needed such a fine-tuning..." She said with all the delicacy of a mother scolding her children. Ratchet scowled internally.

"I'd say there's a lot more then that needing a fine-tuning," he grumbled caustically.

"Hey, no problem here, I was just curious, you know. I mean if that crazy old mech can bag a femme, then there's hope for anyone, right? It was an honest question..." Sideswipe almost pouted.

"You couldn't bag a Decepticon corpse..." Sunstreaker added dryly. His dull tone made it hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or simply trying to instigate a fight. Sideswipe didn't pay it a second thought, which was just one more of his talents: Ignoring his brother.

"Admit it, you want to know what she looks like too. Primus, a squishy little femme. This is just like Bumblebee all over again-"

"That squishy little femme has a name, and believe you me if you talk like this in front of Wheeljack, he'll have you on his dissecting table, cutting open those flashy turbocharged boosters of yours and using your spark casing as an energon tray. And I just might let him." Ratchet said with feigned disinterest in the prospect.

Optimus Prime finally chose that moment to delicately interrupt their little conversation.

"Now all of you, let's stay focused. I am detecting a disturbance from up ahead." Prime rumbled  
with a sense of urgency.

"Disturbance?" Sideswipe's interest was peaked, and much to Ratchet's disdain the younger Autobot even sounded excited, despite the sheer danger of the situation that he knew was present. Sideswipe, and even Prime to some degree had not been here. They didn't know what truly had been happening, or at least had not experienced it first hand: Starscream's focused brutality and perverse interest in Allison, and Soundwave's silent violence that had tormented the human even though she would have never admitted it. Not to mention the utter calamity she had undoubtedly experienced at her office building and Wheeljack's haphazardly thrown-together safe house before Arcee had intervened.

Ratchet wasn't stupid, and despite the fact that Allison thought she had been hiding her emotions well, her human eyes betrayed more than she could have ever imagined. Her imbalanced chemical levels and fluctuating vitals told a richer story that words never could, even if she had decided to purge her feelings. Wheeljack could mask it by being stubbornly indifferent, even casual about getting blasted to pieces, and Allison would play along, but it was more than obvious that she was terrified. Ratchet never shared his much more finely-tuned observations with Wheeljack, because he knew it would only turn the engineer into an even bigger smothering basket case than he was already shaping up to be.

Even though none of them knew this, Ratchet felt the need for respect begged him not to share any of these observations. Prime could get his report later in the privacy of his office. Allison could tell Wheeljack her entire galaxy-worth of feelings if and when she ever felt like it. Right now, there was a new sensation of alarm amongst the convoy, only intensified by Prime's next confirmation.

"Decepticon."

"Slag-it," Ratchet spat angrily, increasing his speed to level-out with Prime. "They don't stand a chance if they're out-numbered." Ratchet knew that Wheejack was no frail-flower and was more than capable of handling himself in battle. Wheeljack may have been more of a pacifist at the Spark, but he knew that the scientist would defend Allison to the death if necessary, and he would not be shy to hold back. However, even Bond-induced instinct would not be able to hold off an army of Decepticon forces, no matter how mad the engineer was.

"Odd, I am only detecting one Decepticon presence..." Optimus Prime observed as they entered the valley, the sprawling rendezvous point in sight. Incredulous, Ratchet began his own scan of the area and surprisingly came up with the very same result. Only one Decepticon...

"How can that..." Ratchet began, but stopped short as an explosion rocked the fairground, a glowing plume of fire blossoming up from the ground and into the sky. The receding echo of the blast shook the valley as the column of fire gave way to angry black smoke, covering the grounds like a renegade storm cloud.

"Hurry!" Ratchet heard the words escape him audibly before he even realized that he was speaking, hoping that they were not too late. The convoy urged forward, Ratchet's constant scan only bringing up two, lonely hits. One Autobot, and one Decepticon. There were no other discernible heat signatures in the vicinity, only the fragmented hints of discharged weaponry and fire. That was not good.

"Prime, I need to find Allison. I'm not picking her up anywhere..." Ratchet's voice was stilted with the tense fear of the reality of what he was about to find. Optimus Prime's silent affirmative was only followed by focused silence as they charged into the already opened gates of the fairground. It was not hard to follow the destruction, but they relied on internal scans to pinpoint the most recent location to see blaster fire. It was oddly quiet.

"Fraggin' Decepticon scum..." Sideswipe muttered to none of them in particular as they blasted through the wreckage consisting of broken and warped pieces of what had previously been infrastructure. Ratchet skidded to a stop and transformed, his momentum carrying him forward a few steps into the carnage. The rest of them followed suit, and immediately fanned out to cover more ground.

"Spread out," Prime commanded, pulling his blaster around from it's resting position on his back. "We need to find Wheeljack and his charge immediately."

Ratchet did not need to be told twice as he began picking through the wreckage, scanning every available frequency and space of ground that he could for some kind of sign. He sidestepped what looked like a small passenger car amidst the wreckage. Slightly concerned with this anomaly, Ratchet looked further and noticed that there were more of them, and they looked glaringly out of place amongst the shattered wood and plaster. Judging by the angle of the destruction, he was able to follow the supposed path of the cars, optics moving upwards to the human entertainment structure above them. They had come from the Ferris wheel ahead. The cars on the top were the ones that were missing, and that could only mean that they had been pulled by someone who could reach up there. Or fly.

Now frantic, and knowing exactly who they were dealing with, Ratchet looked around at the others. With a heaviness in his spark, he was now feeling very, very guilty for giving Allison such a hard time.

"Uh..." Sideswipe's voice carried over one of the remaining structures. "Is that her?" his voice was low with tender uncertainty, and Ratchet felt his circuits freeze as he raced to follow the other Autobot's voice. He was standing in what appeared to be the remnants of a wall, pointing unenthusiastically into the blackness of the building's interior. The younger Autobot's optics almost looked guilty.

Ratchet pushed past him and immediately scanned the room, advanced optic sensors instantly adjusting to the change in light levels. The first thing he saw, was the murmuring form of the little drone called Bean, frantically racing back and forth around a crumpled human bundle on the ground. Cursing loudly, he did not even need to scan to know that he was looking at a deactivated organic body, one that was very important to their missing engineer.

Nearly skidding into Allison's prone form, Ratchet shooed the little drone robot with an angry push of his hand as he went hastily to work. Allison was lying prostrate on her front, skin a sickly white and body alarmingly still. Without even hesitating Ratchet turned her limp body onto her back and thought for the briefest of moments, running through his data banks and scanning all information he had stored about human resuscitation. Defibrillator. He didn't have one, and the resources he had for Autobot resuscitation would be far to powerful, not to mention completely incompatible with her smaller, comparatively weaker body. He needed to jump-start her heart. Electricity.

Without thinking further Ratchet came to a final decision, and pulled open an armor plate on his chest, yanking out a sparking wire with a painful snap. Forcefully he brought the severed, clumped end of the wire down onto Allison's unmoving chest, and willed a rush of energy straight from his own Spark chamber.

Luckily it only took one. Her body heaved upwards unnaturally as her eyes flew open wide, a healthy, haggard gasp cycling air back through her system. She sputtered wildly, flopping convulsively onto her side as a few more subsequent gasps gave way to a fit of gagging. She pawed frantically at the space of air in front of her, fending off whatever had overtaken her the moment she'd deactivated. It did not take long for Ratchet to piece together what had happened. The remnants of discharged Cybertronian weaponry was unmistakable.

"Null ray..." he muttered conclusively, and he sensed Sideswipe shift knowingly in the mouth of the wreckage. He was watching them intently, face pulled tightly within itself to form an angry scowl. Ratchet turned back to Allison, finally calmed, but she was looking around with unfocused eyes at the space around her. Ratchet didn't think she knew he was there yet, but it gave him an extra moment to go over in his mind what had happened. Starscream had clearly held back his full destructive power, as he could have completely obliterated her where she stood with embarrassingly little effort. At the level he'd used, he'd fried Allison's system with enough electricity to stop her heart, effectively killing her on the spot. That meant, he'd likely wanted to make a show out of killing her, and he'd had an audience.

Ratchet gathered that wherever Starscream was now, would be where they would find Wheeljack. He didn't know Allison was alive...

Allison finally stirred with some control of her body, and her eyes slowly fluttered as she touched her face with uncertainty. With some coaxing help from Ratchet, she pulled herself up to a sitting position, choking into the hand she was using to cover her mouth. Ratchet let her sit there gasping before she finally pulled her hand away. The spotting of red on her skin did not escape his notice, but it was not enough to cause a fuss and stress her even further.

Looking startled, and incredibly confused, she wiped the blood from her hands onto her pants and slowly looked around. Ratchet thought this was as good a time as any to say something.

"Allison," he said lightly, taking care to keep his voice down. "It's Ratchet. You're safe now…" he rumbled tenderly. It briefly occurred to him at that moment that losing her would have been painful enough for him, but watching her suffer with his own optics and trying to imagine how Wheeljack would have felt bearing witness to her fall made his Spark even heavier with grief.

Allison turned at the sound of his voice, surprisingly alert but strangely didn't appear at all frightened or startled by the sudden break in the silence. Her eyes swam with helplessness.

"Ratchet?" she murmured quietly, then looked around. Her eyes fluttered. "Where is…"

"Wheeljack? I don't know. He wasn't here when I found you…" Ratchet watched her expression go from mild confusion to deep hurt, and it meant he'd actually have to explain to her what had happened. It hadn't taken him too many nanoseconds to piece it together himself, but telling Allison was going to be troublesome, because he wasn't quite sure yet how much damage Starscream's attack had done to her, temporary or otherwise. He took a sharp intake of air, and was about to speak when her eyes focused on something behind him. Sideswipe made an odd, startled noise like a squeaking gear.

"Ah, Allison... that's Sideswipe," he muttered, turning to meet the other Autobot's azure, uncomfortable gaze and frowned. He could see behind Sideswipe that they had acquired an audience. Ratchet shot Sunstreaker a warning glare to let them know that he would not tolerate any reprehensible behavior from either of them at this delicate point.

Surprisingly, Allison didn't seem particularly involved in the moment at all, and simply returned Sideswipe's confused, glowing stare with an expression that was blank. Ratchet finally had to block her line of sight to get her attention.

"Do you remember what happened?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. He was trying to stimulate her bran functions and get her memory moving, to get her talking, anything to stave off the possible panic that could hit her at any moment.

"I… Wheeljack was here… and Starscream… destroyed the wheel…" she took a deep breath and coughed, pausing to catch her bearings. "…Wheel… he wanted to hurt Wheeljack…"

"And he knew just how to do it too…" Ratchet grumbled. The fact that Wheeljack was purposely shutting them all out was not a good sign. It wasn't too far-fetched to assume that since as far as the engineer knew Allison was dead, that he'd likely gone after Starscream himself. That meant whatever he was doing, he was acting on his own impulses, and in this situation those motivations were going to have messy results. "Listen to me," Ratchet said soothingly, his optics moving upwards to follow the gaping destruction on the other side of the building, where it was clear that two massive bodies had passed through. "I'm not going to lie to you. You were deactivated-" He stopped, correcting himself. "-Dead. Not long, but still enough to reasonably guess that wherever Wheeljack is, he doesn't know you're okay…" Ratchet could hear his audience shift uncomfortably behind him. Allison nodded dully, and looked at that moment like she was trying to decide between throwing up or having a fit.

"He left me here," she said numbly. Ratchet could see her eyes begin to widen just slightly as reality slowly began to sink in for her. Her shoulders tensed and a tremble passed over her body. She was clenching her fists together with the little strength she had, trying hard to stay calm.

"Allison, the effects of the Null Ray are instant. You were essentially dead the moment the blast hit you. On another Cybertronian the effect would have been debilitating at best, but on a human being, it was lethal. It would be an understatement to say that Wheeljack was a little bit put off by this... so I may only be guessing, but I think it's safe to predict where he went." Ratchet was trying to subtly scan her body for signs of physical distress without causing her anymore alarm than she was already experiencing. While the more severe and instant effects of the Null Ray had passed, the heat generated from the blast would most likely have left some kind of physical scarring or severe burn that could have more lasting repercussions. A close inspection of Allison's clothes and a quick analysis of Starscream's questionable self-control left him satisfied that there were no immediately alarming after-effects, but he could sense that her back was going to need proper care as soon as possible. She wouldn't feel it now, but as soon as the adrenaline ceased the pain would be excruciating.

"The human's fine," Sideswipe interjected, growling. "It's Wheeljack I'm more concerned about. He obviously ran after Starscream after the human was wounded." He snarled. "If that fragger isn't already dead I'm gonna blast his sorry face in and then-"

"Sideswipe," Ratchet snarled warningly. Sideswipe stopped and his optics widened for a split second, perhaps realizing his callousness, but he remained wisely mute. Allison's mild expression changed to one of mortification, as if she was just now processing what the other Autobot had said and realizing what had happened. Ratchet looked through the group behind them to make visual contact with Prime, who was watching them with softened optics.

"We may have a problem." Ratchet said to Prime privately. "Wheeljack has shut down his com links. All of them. I think it's safe to say they went that-away, but they're too far to-"

The silence was shattered by a thunderous roar; a deep throbbing rumble that gathered into itself before exploding into a sonic boom, quaking the ground and rattling everyone and everything where they stood. It tapered off into an ear-piercing screech from the struggling vocalizers of someone before immediately dying into silence. The prickle of uncomfortable magnetism lingered in the air for only a nano-second, tugging at all of the Autobots while they attempted to regain balance.

"If I had to guess I'd say that was a genuine gyro-inhibitor shell…" Sideswipe observed sardonically, apparently deciding that stating the obvious was the most appropriate thing to say. But the young Autobot was right, and the way he was arching a brow ridge at Ratchet suggested that he knew it too. The sound of the blast seemed to come from everywhere at once, but it would not be hard to pinpoint; Several acres south of their current location.

"N-no..." Allison choked, forcing Ratchet to turn back to her, and for a moment he thought she was about to collapse again. She'd gone pale, and was staring off in a daze at the hole in the wall behind her. Before he could stop her, she was on her feet and running through the destroyed wall. Ratchet fumbled after her but his fingers hit empty air, forcing a startled snarl from his vocalizer as he called after her.

"Allison! You're in no shape for-"

He was cut off as Sideswipe blew past Ratchet in a full-on run after the human, and to the source of the brawl that she was so stupidly inclined to join. Ratchet stood and followed in close pursuit, leaping heavily through the destruction and back outside. He just briefly saw Sideswipe turn the corner before him as a red and black blurr of movement, right before the other Autobots streaked past the open alley as a rush of indiscernible shapes.

The speed in which the human was running was surprising, but he reached her within a few mere strides, carrying her up in his arm. She squirmed against him with an insulted cry of protest, weakened little organic pump beating frantically against his arm. Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had, typically, simply run on ahead of her, eager to reach the enemy first and exact some damage. He cursed under his breath, holding Allison firmly to stop her half-hearted attempts to escape his grasp, but not firm enough to hurt her further. The last thing he needed were more corpses on his hands, Autobot or human.

He was still thinking about what to say to them later when he rounded another corner, and skidded to a stop when he saw what was in front of him. It was like Omega Supreme himself had smashed two massive fists into the ground where they stood, the range of damage fanned out like a terrifying explosion. At the epicenter, the lying hulk of Starscream was sprawled on his back on the ground, his head staring up at the sky. His expression was contorted into a grotesque mask of horror. One hand was raised out, as if to defend himself from some unseen attacker, his fingers stretched out at odd angles. He was completely frozen.

Behind him, Wheeljack sat awkwardly on a raised pile of rubble, his arms limp by his side, head tilted down to the ground as if he were deep in contemplation. Sunstreaker and his brother were standing around the prone Decepticon form, gaping at Starscream in silent bewilderment as if not quite sure what to do with the enemy already down. Optimus Prime was kneeling at the Decepticon's side immersed in deep concentration, and Arcee stood just behind him. Ratchet ignored their confused expressions, placing Allison on the ground gingerly where she pressed herself against the wall of the nearest building, skin white with uncertain fear.

Ratchet moved past the group indifferently, climbing up to where Wheeljack's body sat and immediately began scanning for signs of life. Perplexed, Ratchet placed his hands on the Autobot's arm to try and will a response from Wheeljack through touch after scanning multiple times with the same result. He wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened, but the Autobot was alive. He was just... not there. The optics were dark and lifeless, and Wheeljack was still as a stone, a wounded Spark beating soullessly in his chest. But Ratchet couldn't quite shake the nagging observation that something was missing as he looked at the Autobot, something that he wasn't immediately processing. He was clearly damaged. The most obvious was the shattered fin on his back, leaking copious amounts of energon like little trails of pearlescent rivers down the jagged plating that remained. There was something else...

"Wheeljack, what happened? I wish..." Ratchet began, but his words were cut short as Wheeljack's body lurched suddenly, his optics blinking on with a solemn azure glow. The engineer suddenly jerked, startled as an unintelligible garble of noise erupted from his vocalizer. Ratchet shouted back, alarmed at the outburst as the scientist ripped his arm out of his grasp. Wheeljack's gaze locked onto Ratchet's perplexed stare, and it was just then that he finally noticed that Wheeljack was missing his battle mask... He knew something had seemed off.

Wheeljack's face was exposed, something that he never did. The exposure of his face could only mean that Wheeljack had simply given up...

"You're not an angel," Wheeljack said solemnly, the movement of his damaged face jarring. The spidered pattern of scarring on his right cheek created an uneven, painful map of wounds long suffered, making his face appear tight with improperly mended metal. Ratchet's eyes dimmed with guilt. He'd tried to help Wheeljack so many times, but he'd always refused, opting to suffer some untold guilt in silence.

"No," Ratchet said slowly. "I'm not an angel, whatever that is."

Wheeljack's expression dimmed, as if defeated. "Primus, that must mean I'm still online..." The ragged cracks along the Autobot's oral plates tensed as his mouth tightened into a deep, awkward frown. Wheeljack's hand instinctively hovered at his jaw in a half-hearted attempt to shield himself from view.

Ratchet slapped Wheeljack's arm angrily, having no patience for his little quirks any longer.

"Damn it Wheeljack! You scared the Spark right out of me. Now what on Cybertron happened here?"

Wheeljack craned his head over Ratchet's shoulder, and his expression turned severe. Shoving the medic to the side where he stumbled with a grunt, Wheeljack stood and lunged forward in only two steps. Before Optimus Prime could protest, Wheeljack yanked the stiff body of Starscream up by the chin, his other hand tightened into a fierce fist. The Decepticon did not even so much a blink, the only reaction a startled gurgle of fear from his throat as he was ungraciously hoisted awkwardly off the ground.

"Wheeljack." Prime said warningly. He had stepped back and was hovering near Wheeljack with an air of fatherly understanding despite his tone. Wheeljack snarled, partially exposed dental plates grinding in anxious frustration.

"I have unfinished business."

"Wheeljack..." Ratchet turned quickly, startled at the female voice that had finally decided to make itself known. Wheeljack gaped, dropping Starscream with a heavy thunk like he was burned, and the Decepticon's body slammed onto the ground with a heavy crack that made them all wince. Ratchet saw Wheeljack physically react as Allison limped forward, a wane smile on her face as if to offer some form of comfort. The Autobot's expression however, was the complete opposite of relief.

"Ratchet... is this... what humans call a ghost?" Wheeljack muttered quietly, his words unexpectedly shifting to Cybertronian as if the pale girl slowly shuffling forward, doubled over in fatigue was not something to be trusted; The enemy. Ratchet looked at him sadly.

"No Wheeljack. Allison isn't a ghost." He made a point to respond in Allison's language.

"'Jack..." Allison repeated, hesitating once she neared the stiff body of the Decepticon on the ground. She was eying Starscream warily, and he saw her attempt to straighten her body as if to defiantly feign some sort of strength she didn't have. The small demonstration was more than her weakened state was capable of sustaining though, and she faltered, leaning forward with a grimace. Ratchet had to resist every urge to make her lie down, realizing that this was probably not the best time. She coughed lightly, "I know what you think you need to do...and it's wrong."

There was a pregnant silence after her words as none of them knew what to say in response to her observation, but still understood the weight of its implications.

Wheeljack was looking at Allison as if he still couldn't quite believe that she was standing there. She was keeping her distance, unsure if it was...safe...to be too close to Wheeljack when he was this unstable. Admittedly, Ratchet wasn't quite sure how to interpret Wheeljack's terrified expression.

"Ratchet, I think I'm malfunctioning..." Wheeljack's face went rigid.

"For Primus' sake Wheeljack you're not. I reactivated her. She's standing right in front of you... She's had better days, but she's alive. Now acknowledge her before she faints right here on the spot."

"But...I was too late to save you," Wheeljack murmured, looking down at Starscream's null ray with a grimace. "I saw you die." Allison shifted, emitting a forced laugh, which made Wheeljack's gaze snap back in her direction sharply.

"I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you, Wheeljack, but you have to do one thing for me. I know you want to... kill him..." she hesitated, taking a wide step around Starscream's body towards them. Ratchet watched Wheeljack stiffen as she moved closer to the Decepticon's face. Allison stopped short and looked up at the distraught Autobot.

Before she could continue Wheeljack grabbed Starscream's head and forced it to turn towards her with a resonating crack of parts being forced passed their limits. This made everyone standing around the scene tense with knowing discomfort, but there was no attempt to intervene. Allison nearly stumbled back in fear as the surprisingly alert red optics focused on her.

"See that, Decepticon? She's alive. A single, tiny human being beat you, you worthless pile of scrap!" Wheeljack snarled viciously, forcing Starscream's head into the ground, metal grinding on the concrete painfully. A weak whimper was all that escaped from behind the Decepticon's frozen oral plates. Allison raised her hand gently to stop him, silently regarding Starscream's optics as if considering something within her own thoughts. Ratchet saw Allison's expression appear almost merciful, he thought, before she turned back to Wheeljack.

"Stop it." She begged, voice only slightly raised. "This isn't you. Let him go or at least take him prisoner... Killing him might feel good now, but it won't later, I can promise you that..." Allison's voice lowered. She turned to Starscream, whose eyes had shifted to reveal an uneasy realization. He was going to owe the human his life. The red glow of his optics brightened for the briefest of moments, an expression that was a rarity for a Decepticon; gratitude. It was very, very quick, but it had been there.

Ratchet suddenly found himself feeling very uncomfortable with the whole situation in front of him. Allison was right, this was not something the Autobots did...

To say that Ratchet was pleased to see the Decepticon forced into such submission was an understatement, but he also understood that murder was not the right choice, even if he deserved it. The expression on Wheeljack's face betrayed the struggle he was having in making the decision.

"Don't pretend to know what the right decision is..." Wheeljack said in a low, disconcertingly quiet voice. "You haven't lived the years to..."

"I know enough, Wheeljack. I'm not naive."

Wheeljack's optics glowed hotly; he was clearly frustrated with the dilemma, and Ratchet was getting immensely irritated with the engineer who couldn't quite seem to grasp the fact that the human had been categorically dead not minutes before. Arguing with her was the least productive of things to be doing, and he could tell that Allison was hurt, shoulders drooped weakly with no usable retort. Her wilted posture collapsed deeper, as her whole body teetered forward before she fell to her knees, puffing air heavily. Ratchet shot Prime a heavy glare in a plea to finally make use of his authority and intervene, because he couldn't tell if Allison was crying or going into cardiac arrest.

"Wheeljack," Optimus said forcefully, resting a hand on the scientist's tense shoulder. Wheeljack pulled away without even turning to Prime, his expression pained. "I know this must be hard on you," he continued, unfazed by Wheeljack's retraction.

"On the contrary," Wheeljack said, looking down at Starscream, then turning to stare at Allison with a mournful tilt of his head. "This is by far the easiest thing I've ever had to do." He bent down over the prone Decepticon, and sparing no decency, gripped the wrists of both arms and roughly pulled them together. A compartment in his thigh opened and he pulled out a pair of glowing stasis cuffs to lock the Decepticon into a state of incapacity. Ratchet hadn't even realized he'd been so tense until that moment when he felt all his servos relax. Wheeljack bound the Decepticon, and Starscream's body jerked with an electric pop as the cuffs took control of his motor receptors, immobilizing him.

"This Decepticon has caused worlds of hurt. Not just to me or to Allison. He's ruined a lot of lives. A lot of good scientists have been sucked into his lies, only to be shot in the back. All for his own personal gain." Wheeljack shook his head. "At least Megatron has the decency to shoot you in the face." Wheeljack said, standing upright.

Prime was watching Wheeljack carefully, as if he was assessing him. "And now?"

"Now? Now he pays for what he's done. Slowly, and as drawn out as possible."

"We don't want to kill him, Wheeljack," Prime warned.

"You don't." Wheeljack bent down and gripped Starscream's face in his hand, turning it as if to get a look at something. "There's far too much in here that I can use, a lot I can only get to while he's alive." He stood back up again. "Don't worry. I won't kill him. Not yet." His panels blinked a pale, emotionless white.

Prime's optics narrowed as he glanced at Ratchet, but all the medic could do was frown. He wasn't a processor analyst. He wasn't sure what Prime thought he could do.

"Perhaps you should say something to Allison," Ratchet grunted, doubting that tone of interjection was what Prime had in mind, but he hardly cared. Wheeljack's expression softened to one of guilt, which quickly brightened when he turned towards Allison, who had at some point wedged herself against Ratchet's leg. Wheeljack came uncomfortably close as he reached forward, and began an attempt to pry the human from his leg. "For Primus' sake, is this necessary?" Ratchet scoffed, leaning away with his leg figuratively glued to the spot.

Allison coughed, but it was only masking a laugh. She looked at Wheeljack from behind the veil of her hair. Before she could say anything Wheeljack spoke first.

"I'm sorry." His face was sincere, and it was clear that Allison was suddenly aware of just how different Wheeljack seemed without the veil of his mask. He'd always been good at displaying his emotions; he almost had to be. But now she could see them at their rawest. "You don't understand how much it hurts..." he was tapping his chest symbolically, emphasizing his frustration with every beat of his hand. Allison's face was a mixture of soft wonderment and tender sympathy.

"I think I know more than you realize." She moved away from Ratchet slowly, reaching out with a hand like a curious sparkling experiencing something for the first time. Wheeljack lowered his face slowly and nervously, pulling back with a jerk just as her fingers were about to touch his cheek. He tried a second time, and this time her fingers connected. Ratchet watched in uncomfortable silence as Allison felt the coarse, scarred metal, following the corroded network of scars that led down to his chin. The right cheek seemed to have born the brunt of whatever devastation Starscream had caused. A deep ravine ran from the center of his cheek down to the corner of his mouth, where something sharp had sliced right through the solid metal exposing circuitry underneath. A single plate split down the middle, the ragged edges pushing against each other like two continental plates colliding. Even with Ratchet's help, his face would unfortunately never be the same again. Given how long it had been, Ratchet was of the opinion Wheeljack wouldn't want to fix it even if he could. He'd been stubborn this long, what made anyone think he'd change now?

"You know, some women are attracted to men with scars," Allison said with a small, teasing smile. Ratchet rolled his optics with a huff of vented air at Wheeljack's puzzled look of fascination, as if he didn't quite know how to accept that as a compliment.

"Can't say anyone ever commented on my battle wounds", Ratchet said, pointing at his broken crest. A noise from behind Wheeljack brought his attention back to the Decepticon. The twins were crouched next to Starscream, taking turns taunting the Decepticon and slapping him in the face. All the poor miserable beast could do was lie there and take it as Sunstreaker suddenly stood and kicked him brutally in the head. Ratchet opened his mouth to say something but Prime was already on them like cosmic rust.

"You two! Stop that!" Prime barked, causing the twins to immediately snap to attention, a look of begrudging obedience most notable on Sunstreaker's face. "We're leaving. And you two are volunteering to help Arcee secure our passenger for the journey back to base."

"Yes sir," they both droned, and the rest of their commotion was lost on Ratchet as Wheeljack suddenly made a startled buzzing noise near his feet, making him jump irritably. Allison was leaning forward with a triumphant smile on her face while Wheeljack looked speechless, fingers hovering above his face.

"You didn't just do what I think you did, did you?" Ratchet asked, barely able to grasp the fact.

Allison looked guilty, but she feigned innocence. "I might have." She paused. "He had it coming, anyway."

"I think Allison is hungry... she just tried to.. eat me?" Wheeljack didn't seem quite as convinced of his own explanation, but he was genuinely baffled. While Ratchet hadn't seen it happen, he knew very well what the silly human femme had done: She'd kissed him.

"No, that's not what I did, Wheeljack. I can't eat you, I don't think you'd digest very well for a start. That was called a kiss, and it means I love you." She paused for a moment, as if just now realizing the truth behind what she'd said. She looked away shyly. "I mean... you know... oh never mind..." she waved her hand through the air dismissively, but it was clear by the reddened tone of her face that she knew it was too late to take it back. Wheeljack looked at her thoughtfully, panels burning a nauseatingly sentimental rosy color.

Ratchet decided it was a good time to politely cough into his right hand. He saw Wheeljack roll his optics as he shared a knowing chuckle with Allison, who was still looking like she wanted to run and hide after her little slip.

"Give me a minute Allison, I have a very important appointment it seems." Wheeljack said, and Allison nodded lightly before turning to give them some room. She walked a few paces away from them, limping slightly, and Ratchet noted the way she slowly brought a hand to her lower back. She was starting to feel it, and when it hit her fully it was not going to be pleasant. He had some time to attend to that, but right now he had to make sure that Wheeljack wasn't more seriously injured than he let on. It was already clear the way he watched Allison that Wheeljack was keenly aware of her injuries, so this was the only chance Ratchet was going to get to look him over before the engineer's priorities took a dramatic shift.

Ratchet stared at Wheeljack, his brow furrowed. "You do remember what I told you cycles ago, right? The conversation we had about all the trouble you'd get yourself into if you let this happen?" Wheeljack waved Ratchet off.

"And like I insinuated before, I still don't need a lecture." He paused, thinking. "I know what I feel is right."

Ratchet had always been wary of the Bonding from the start, but anytime a human was concerned it was always going to be a gamble regardless of how wild he was about the prospect. Despite his misgivings, there was not going to be arguing with Wheeljack about it, which would have made about as much sense as arguing with a Decepticon over the weather.

"Let me look at you," Ratchet said gruffly in defeat. Wheeljack stood patiently as Ratchet gave him another brief look over. He would need more buffing of course, and his fin would need extensive reconstruction, but he would live to commit another reckless act. "There's a weak pulse in a few of your extension energon lines, but other than that you're fine." Ratchet cycled air, ceasing his scans.

"I told you I was." Wheeljack was frowning. For a moment it was disconcerting, because he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen an honest-to-Primus frown on the Autobot's face that wasn't just a shadow of emotion in his optics. Ratchet scowled back at him, trying hard to not make it obvious that he was scrutinizing Wheeljack's exposed face very carefully, but the engineer's narrowed optics made it clear it had not gone unnoticed.

"There is the matter of-" Ratchet was cut off.

"Forget it. I'll replace it myself," Wheeljack interjected fiercely. His optics darted around subtly. "Seeing as I seem to have misplaced my old one..."

"I'd say it was more likely that your battle mask got ripped off by a Decepticon, but what do I know? You got lucky, Wheeljack." Ratchet's voice was low and filled with warning. "It wouldn't have taken much more to extinguish your spark."

"I'm not a fool, Ratchet. I'm aware of how dangerous it was. I prefer not to think about it."

"That's what I'm concerned about. If you want to pursue this...thing you have going with the human-"

"Allison." Wheeljack interjected, and the insult laced in his voice was not lost.

"Yes, Allison, I know her name. If you truly think that taking care of her for the rest of her life, assuming you don't get yourself blasted into scrap first, is something you're up for then you need to start using that overclocked processor of yours to make sure nothing like this happens again. Running into the Pit only to get yourself blown up certainly isn't going to help her, but I know you enough to know you're not going to listen to me."

"You're right," Wheeljack confirmed. "I won't, but you wouldn't follow your own advice either if Arcee's life were in jeapordy.."

"Yeah yeah, just get out of my sight before I decide to make your recovery harder. Allison is waiting for you, and I think you two might actually benefit from a little quality time." Ratchet shook his head as Wheeljack turned with a quick nod, eager to get back to Allison. He watched as the young human femme turned, her face filled with a genuinely relieved smile as the two were reunited. Ratchet muttered to himself, shaking his head.

"Nothing good can come of this."

* * *

Epilogue

It had been a few hours since they'd left the ruined fairground behind, and it had been quickly decided amongst the convoy that a rushed, stressful journey was not going to be easy on Allison, or Wheeljack for that matter, as they were both suffering from injuries accumulated over the last month. It was as if the floodgates had finally opened. Immediate danger had passed, and the rush of exhilaration from battle had finally subsided, only to allow the more dire pains of their bodies' physical complaints take front and center. It left them both feeling the strain from wounds that had been left unchecked, the more pressing issues at the forefront of their minds having taken precedence at the time.

Now that they were on their way home, for once without the constant need to look over their shoulders, it was now that Allison finally began to feel the results of Starscream's handy work. It had come with a vengeance, and while Wheeljack could champion on through whatever pain he was feeling it was difficult for Allison just to remain awake. The rumble of Ratchet's passing over rough ground was barely enough to keep her eyes open, but she fought with her body to remain conscious. The mask that was placed over her face to ensure constant oxygen feeding into her however, was more than enough to remind her of just how close she had been to the brink of death. Every time her eyes slid closed, she struggled to bring herself out of the darkness, fearing that she would never open her eyes again. The neurotic terror of slipping into a coma and into oblivion just when she finally thought she'd made it out of the fire, was just barely enough to keep her fighting.

As that in of itself wasn't enough, added to that was the fear that out of the depths of her slumber a Decepticon would come and finish the murder he had so expertly started. Even though she knew that Optimus Prime had forged onward with their incapacitated prisoner, it did not keep the fears at bay. Starscream had been tied down to a trailer behind the Autobot leader, with nothing but a flimsy tarp indecently dumped over his frozen body, his mind still very much aware. To Allison it just felt like throwing a napkin over a lion. She half expected to drift off unaware, only to be oblivious to those red flames hovering above her, staring down at her vulnerable, beaten body with eyes that were desperate to subject her to unimaginable horrors.

That alone would have been enough to keep her alert and conscious, but she was feeling unnaturally groggy, like she'd been drugged. It let her mind wander to something far less deadly, that being how exactly Ratchet was feeding her oxygen and where it was coming from. She swore there had to be something else mixed in with what she was breathing. It had been nearly an hour since a tingling, floating sensation of peace had passed over her body, reducing the excruciating pain in her back and on her chest to a dull throb. Her mind wasn't nearly coherent enough to try and work out whether or not she was breathing some cocktail of byproducts of Ratchet's body, or something he'd been storing. Either way, she was not nearly of the right mind to be bothered by it. There would be plenty of time to be weirded out later. Right now she felt nothing but absolute bliss.

Ratchet had assured her that carrying her within him was only a precaution, but he had refused her request to ride in Wheeljack on the way home, which made her feel like he was lying to her. She had gone with it, however, and she could hear Wheeljack's engine, strangely clear, through Ratchet's panels. He was keeping stride with the older Autobot, riding beside her; her shiny, very large white knight escorting her home. Nobody spoke, or if they did it was through internal com channels that Allison was not privy too. She was happy enough to just listen to the sounds of the Autobots around her; her own little procession.

Optimus Prime had gone ahead, and much to Ratchet's vehement dislike Arcee had gone with him, as she was the only one strong enough other than the twins to provide back-up should anything happen. It had been decided it would be best for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to remain with Wheeljack, Ratchet and Allison, as they were the significantly weaker portion of the convoy and would need the extra fighting power more than Optimus Prime would. Every now and then she would hear the thunderous roar of a high-performance engine streak past, seeming to come from all around her at once. It did well to startle Allison back into wakefulness, and for that, she was at least grateful.

Finally it became too much of a one-sided battle to fight with her body. The back of her throat started to tingle, and she briefly wondered if Ratchet knew she was still awake and was trying to force her to rest. Final thoughts of loving gratitude and acceptance filled her, for Ratchet's care for her, and most especially for Wheeljack who was remaining next to Ratchet like he was glued to the medic's side. She almost thought she could feel his presence like he was standing at her side, but she was alone, and it was getting darker by the moment.

As the darkness of sleep eventually began to overpower her, her last thoughts before drifting into a deep slumber were of the strange alien beings who had changed her life, and the one in particular whom had nearly given his life to defend her; Wheeljack. Despite the chaos, and death, and fear, he had not given up fighting for her. He could have abandoned her multiple times to save his own hide, but he hadn't, preferring to shield her from anything that he'd perceived as a threat. They had what they came for: The Pendulum, and maybe, just maybe they could finally contact their home planet. Funny how one tiny little MP3 player, one seemingly insignificant piece of human technology, had caused her so much misery.

Despite everything that she'd lost, and regardless of the physical and emotional harm she had come to, having been a part of the journey was something to cherish. In the end, she'd experienced something that was so powerful, and more important than all of the world's spoils combined; unconditional love and friendship.

She wouldn't trade it for the world.

End


End file.
